


Weird Texas

by EllOnWheels



Series: The Weird Texas Series [1]
Category: Hellboy - All Media Types, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 59,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllOnWheels/pseuds/EllOnWheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mishmash of the Hellboy's world with some of the more fantastical characters of the WWE universe. The title is not just a clever name, this will get pretty strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the back story of Taker and Kane but without any connection to the WWF/E, and set more in the Hellboy universe. Set before Professor Bruttenholm's death, so it means the rest of the story is set in the past... Ages of Taker and Kane have been 'moved' in continuity to make them a little younger... Why? Because it made the math in my head easier. Certain 'facts' borrowed from Journey into Darkness, the 'biography' of Kane... And while it had a few plot holes, hazy points, and spelling errors, was an okay read.
> 
> This was posted back in 2007 on my ff.net account, and I've decided to cross post here.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine... I just like 'em, and my strange brain mashed 'em together. I make very little money, and certainly not any from writing fan fic. Don't sue, as it would be as waste of your time... Frivolous litigation is so silly when you could be writing frivolous fan fiction instead!

 

Chapter 1

             This always happened to him... Without fail, something small and seemingly easy to handle would turn into something else entirely. While that fact in of itself didn’t bother him, the fact that it seemed to be inevitable sometimes did. Because things in his universe pretty much always ended up weird. When he wanted to just sit down, and drink a beer (which is what he usually wanted to do, if only because he so rarely got to), something else weird would happen, and he’d have to go and deal with it.

            Like this night for example. As was also usual for him, he’d gone AWOL at the first opportunity. This night found him in Texas. He’d spent plenty of time in New Mexico years ago, but very little in the Lone Star State, and he’d just come off of working four days straight with no sleep, so he felt he deserved a little time to himself.

            He’d ended up with a pilfered six pack of tallboy cans from an outdoor party where the parents were most definitely away, and he was now wandering around an older section of a cemetery. It wasn’t very old per say, but it hadn’t been filled recently enough to call it new.

            The only reason why he’d come here is because it was a Sunday night, and he knew it would be totally deserted in the graveyard, and he was looking for some peace and quiet. There were also several mature trees to duck behind should the need arise. But as was typical for him, something else strange was going to happen in his life. The first inkling he got of it was the scent of something burning, specifically candles burning. He’d always had a keen sense of smell, and could tell from some distance off whether it was wood, wick and wax, or even flesh burning. The scent of candles burning was not something he expected in a quiet cemetery on a Sunday night by any means. Folks just didn’t leave fires burning unattended in places like Texas.

            Then his eyes started scanning around for the source of the scent, by trying to find the soft light that would go with it. He continued his walk further among the graves. It wasn’t long before his ears started to confirm the worry that his nose had started. He heard a single voice chanting or invoking something in an antique tongue, and it was from that voice he found the right spot to look.

            Well away from the sodium lights and down a gently sloping hill was the figure of a large man hunched between two graves. He was surrounded by a protective ‘circle’ laid out on the grass in a thick line of salt. Whatever it was that that man was trying to accomplish, it was just himself that he was putting at risk, so Hellboy, investigator for the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, took his time approaching. He walked slowly and quietly just outside of the man’s peripheral vision.

            As his face became clear in the dim light of the candles set up around him, Hellboy saw his expression, and had to admit it surprised him. His face didn’t show the usual malevolence of someone trying to complete a ritual in the middle of the night in a graveyard. He looked... humble, but not like he was groveling. Hellboy had seen a lot of people in his fifty odd years on the planet, and could tell by looking at him that this man’s humble, prone position was not his usual state of mind or posture. Normally, this man of large stature would be full of self-confidence, if not outright pride. He was broad shouldered, and would have stood well over six and a half feet tall if he were vertical. However, he was not thin as many very tall people were, and looked as though he kept his body in peak condition. He could have been a football player... Or anything really, except a jockey.

            The ritual itself looked vaguely familiar to Hellboy. It was most certainly a ‘crossing over’ type, but where the man was trying to get to was unclear. There were no blatant signs of the demonic that would show he was trying to gain access to hell, and while Hellboy couldn’t ever imagine wanting to go there, he was continually amazed by those that seemed to want to unleash it on Earth. There were also no indications the man wanted communication with heaven either. If Hellboy had only been keen to know who was burning candles at this late hour in a Texas cemetery, now he was intrigued. He kept on quietly moving closer to the man, not wanting to scare him off. Mercifully, he was so wrapped up in his ritual that he failed to notice Hellboy’s approach.

            “Hey” Hellboy called softly when he stood directly behind him. From the man’s shirtless torso, Hellboy could now see the tattoos that blazed up his arms, that he’d been severely beaten, and recently at that. “Hey” Hellboy hailed again. “Your circle’s all wrong if you’re trying to open up a gateway to hell.” He thought that challenging him in this way would be a good way to distract him away from his ritual, while not having to hit him. Besides, crossing an unfamiliar circle, no matter how simplistic was not a good idea. Actually it was the simplicity of what he was looking at, from which Hellboy could tell the man meant business and knew well what he was doing. There was nothing around him that wasn’t necessary, and if he knew that, then he probably knew a whole lot more as well.

            The man didn’t acknowledge him and kept on chanting. Hellboy sighed and knew he was going to have to take the risk. He stooped over, and reached out with his relatively normal sized left hand and took a firm hold of the man’s ankle. He wore no shoes either. Before the man could react, Hellboy hauled his sizeable bulk out of the circle and could hear as the breath was knocked out of him as he dragged him a few feet away...

            Hellboy had been ready for all kinds of crazy bullshit to be unleashed when he broke the circle, but what he didn’t expect was the man twisting himself free on a knee-jerk reflex, and then come up swinging. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” The man bellowed as he tagged Hellboy’s jaw with an uppercut.

            The blow didn’t affect Hellboy much, other than sting. But the fact that he could accomplish that made Hellboy quickly understand how physically strong the guy was. He stood in front of Hellboy, puffed up, hands balled into fists, and obviously enraged that he’d been disturbed. Hellboy shook his head and gathered his senses. “Hey, I could ask you the same question there, pal.” He retorted. “Some guy trying a crossing attempt, you have to know someone like me is going to be interested.” Hellboy said. That was when the man took a moment and really looked at who had pulled him away from what he was doing. Unlike so many others, this man had no fear in his eyes, and Hellboy had to wonder what gave him that kind of self assurance when facing down what for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a demon.

            “So for once the rumours were correct.” The man mused while he looked Hellboy up and down.

            “On some things... You want a beer? I’ll share if you tell me what you’re up to and just why you’re opening a portal to... Where are you trying to get to anyways?” Hellboy asked.

            “I really don’t have time for this.” The tattooed man said coolly. “I’m not out looking for any kind of trouble. I just have to talk to some people, and I will be back directly.” He then picked up the bag of salt, and set about renewing the boundaries of the circle.

            “And you have to talk to these people so bad that you’d attempt a crossing solo? What if you never get back?” Hellboy asked.

            “Yes I do have to speak to them... And if I never came back... Well then maybe I’ll finally get some peace. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” The man turned away from him and continued to pour the salt. Hellboy sighed and then drew his gun out of its holster at his side. He cocked it and pointed it at the man’s head.

            “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re going to tell me, or I’m going to have to stop you one way or another.” The man paused and turned back to Hellboy.

            “Look, I told you, for once in my life, I’m not looking for any trouble... Hell, I’m not even out for my own direct gain here, and I pretty much always am. I just need to talk to a couple of people who don’t happen to be a part of this world anymore.” He said. Hellboy quickly scanned the carved writing on the simple, matching stones in front of them, and drew a quick conclusion.

            “Looks like these two died on the same day when you would be about, fourteen or fifteen, maybe? What kind of fucked up family reunion is this?” He asked.

            “The kind that involves me doing grievous physical harm to the only other member of my immediate family who can still count himself among the living. Now, can you let me get back to the task of perhaps begging their forgiveness and then earning my way into hell?” He asked, but his tone indicated that there would be no arguing with him over what he was attempting to do. Still, Hellboy kept his sometimes shoddy aim on the man, and knew to try and keep him talking.

            “Why is it so bad that it would come to this? What’s your situation?” Hellboy asked.

            “I just told you told you that I don’t have the fucking time to talk to you!” The man’s angry bellow was truly an unpleasant thing, and Hellboy was fairly certain that it had made many a man tremble in his boots.

            “Need I remind you that I’m the one holding the gun?” Hellboy asked, and gave a slight nod to the firearm he held.

            The tattooed man standing in the salt circle furrowed his brow in annoyance, and then merely waved his hand. The motion caused some unseen force to rip the gun from Hellboy’s hand and send it flying off into the murk well beyond his ability to see. Hellboy let out a short cry of pain and surprise at the gun being wrenched from his hand, but he didn’t pull back from the man.

            “Now your gun is as useful to you, as my continuing to stand here talking to you is to me. Would you _please_ just fuck off and let me do this thing?”

            Hellboy chose a strategic cessation of hostilities for the moment. It was clear that the man wasn’t out to hurt him. If he could take the gun away from him without touching it so easily, then he could have just as easily brought it to his own hand. Once more, the man turned his back on him.

            Hellboy took a moment to examine the man’s wounds again. He was honestly surprised that a human could continue to function with that degree of injury. Not only was he bruised, but cut, abraded and burned. It also appeared as if they were all in different stages of healing. Some were old, some still bleeding slowly and glistening in the low candle light. He also observed that save for some redness at the man’s knuckles from where he’d hit him earlier; he had no injuries from what would be considered him putting up an offense. That meant that while someone had been hitting him, he hadn’t been hitting back, despite obviously knowing quite well how to do it.

            The man started to chant again and resumed his crouching position on the ground. Hellboy had to admire the guy’s balls if anything... Perhaps he was some kind of modern day warrior like Hellboy himself.

            “Just so you know I’ll be waiting here until you get back.” Hellboy said. The man then gave him the bird as he continued to chant and the ground started to shake.

            The next thing Hellboy knew a vast hole was tearing itself open in the ground, and grey cloud spewed out of it. It didn’t smell of brimstone like an opening to hell did though, so Hellboy had to assume that he’d been telling the truth on that... With only a moment of hesitation, the man jumped down into the chasm; and with that, the opening seemed to be satisfied and closed itself up instantaneously.

            Within seconds, the world was back to as normal as it was going to get for Hellboy. He then sat down on the grass, opened one of the beers, which had been sitting in the deep pocket of his trench coat. He took a sip, set the beer down, and then pulled a cigar from his coat and the communication device from his belt. He placed the cigar in his mouth, and then turned the unit back on. After that he fished for his lighter in his pocket where the cigars were. “One of these days, they’ll get smart and just make one I can’t turn off.” He mused. His words muffled by the cigar between his lips. As he lit the cigar, the com unit’s speaker crackled to life.

            “Liz to Red, would you please call the office and tell us where you got to?” Liz’s voice said. Hellboy grinned, puffed on the cigar a few times, and then hit the button that turned the device into a two way radio.

            “Hello Liz” He said warmly. “I need you to get some information, including obituaries, on a couple of people, Randall Callaway, and Susanna Kane-Callaway, who lived in Texas and died about fifteen years ago.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

             Hellboy settled in for a long wait, despite wanting a two hour shower and a couple of days in bed. He continued to drink the beer and smoke while he waited for the cavalry to show up and try to ‘collect’ him. But he would have none of that until he got to the bottom of the otherwise okay guy with some major power in the occult department. As he waited, he turned over what he already knew in his mind several times. Despite the man’s seemingly ‘pacifistic’ nature, he was very capable of defending himself and proved that he was willing with the punch he delivered to Hellboy’s jaw... This whole experience had left him with a lot of questions. The main one being, just who was the man that had let the earth swallow him whole so he could go speak to his mom and dad?

            When the rest of the needed agents from the B.P.R.D showed up, they set up tarps surrounding the Callaway graves, and went so far as to bring in a backhoe in order to make it appear that they were exhuming the caskets. They also rounded up his gun for him, and it once more sat in the holster at his side. Hellboy shifted between sitting and standing within the tarp boundary, reading a file that had been put together literally over night for him about the Callaway and Kane families, and their murky, jaded history.

            It didn’t take him long to learn that the Callaway’s had run a funeral home, and that all but one of the family had been reported as dead in a fire that destroyed the mortuary. The youngest son, Glen, had been badly burned, but survived and then gone through the foster system. It was also apparent he’d been bounced around a lot too. Tragedy had seemed to follow him at every step, including witnessing a foster mother murder his foster father. Glen himself had also fallen off the radar shortly after finishing high school. But the few pictures that existed of Glen on his high school football team looked nothing like the man Hellboy had seen last night, save for some passing familial resemblance. Also, he had no telltale old burn scars. The man had been injured, and badly so, but he had no old scars... Not to mention that he was a few years older than Glen would be now...

            So logic would dictate that the man he’d seen was Mark, even though Mark had been declared dead in the fire. However, if he could cross worlds like this now, it was entirely possible that he’d done it many times before. Hellboy read further, and then discovered that Mark’s ‘body’ had never been officially identified by the authorities in the aftermath of the fire. There was some controversy over ‘extra bodies’, most likely those of illegal immigrants, being found in the basement workroom of the mortuary. So the official identification of Mark’s remains had been skimmed over in the shit storm that was the investigation of that.

            Another point of interest was that Randall Callaway’s apprentice had also disappeared after that fateful night... It was all just spooky enough to make Hellboy hunker down behind a tarp in the heat of a sunny day in Texas, strictly to ask this guy his side of the story when he returned. If he returned, that is.

            Hellboy’s attention was for the most part locked on the manila file folder full of photocopied newspaper articles and information found on the internet, as well as a basic timeline of each of the family members’ lives. He was being kept out of general sight for the sake of not causing any media attention, though he played nice and posed for a few pictures with local law enforcement when they came poking around. He even laughed when they joked that they could use a guy like him to help break up bar fights.

            Folks were just starting to get antsy and bored that evening when Liz Sherman arrived and immediately created peace among bickering parties about how long they should keep vigil. After saying hello, getting briefed on what was going on, and mildly agreeing with the general annoyance at Hellboy’s insistence that they stay, she drifted over to him. “Hey Red” She said and Hellboy looked up from the file he held and smiled at her.

            “Liz, glad you came.” He said.

            “Someone has to keep them from trying to drag you out of here. You’ve got everyone riled up with your ‘wait and see’ attitude. That’s just not like you at all, and they know it.” She said.

            “No other choice. Gotta sit tight until this guy comes back before we can go any further.” He replied.

            “What about the younger brother, Glen? He’s the one who’s actually supposed to be alive, right?” She asked.

            “Most likely it would be like chasing a ghost that doesn’t want to be found... The same goes for this funeral assistant who took off after the fire... Something’s telling me the three of them are connected. I’m suspecting that Mark went with this ‘Paul’ guy after the blaze... They found a body about Mark’s size in the rubble, but never even did a dental check to confirm it was him. Glen barely survived and was shuffled through the foster system, thinking his entire family was dead...” Hellboy was speaking more to get what few facts he had in order, rather than to inform Liz, who would know this already.

            “But the guy I saw the ground swallow couldn’t have been Glen. He was a few years too old, and didn’t have any evidence of burn scars... And even though kids can heal remarkably well, there should have been something left. The one blurry picture of the assistant in existence looked nothing like the man I saw either... So I’ve got to assume it was Mark.” Hellboy then sighed, and sunk into deep thought for a time. Liz stood patiently with him, knowing that he wasn’t quite finished with what he had to say yet. It was something she knew on instinct, because she knew her friend well.

            “I took a look at the guy, and I’ve never seen anybody look more alone... Not even me.” Hellboy said in summation.

            “Ah, so you see something of yourself in him, and want to help.” Liz deduced. She then looked up at Hellboy and smiled. A strange, yet tender moment like this was everything she liked about him.

            “I guess so.” Hellboy said and returned the smile. “Hey, I know you’ll have the hookup, has anybody brought coffee yet?”

            “Seeing as you’re so buried in a file for once, and I’m feeling generous for once, I’ll go check that out for you, Red.”

            “Thanks” Hellboy replied and returned his attention to the file he held in his left hand. He was also going to have to see if anybody could dig up any information on this “Paul Grimm”, who’d used several other aliases before that one, and probably more than a few since.

            He drained about a baker’s dozen of large coffees that night, and finally gave up and let himself sleep during the second day. He knew it might have just been easier to stay awake, but there was little else to do other than wait, so he left the observation of the gravesite to other capable eyes. Liz faded in and out, telling him that she was working remotely on other cases while keeping him company. He was glad for her presence though. She helped keep his temperament mild.

            Little information was found on Grimm, mainly that he was a high level forger, common thief, and had his fingers in occult practices since his mid teens. He would find or make the right spell for anything so long as the buyer had the money to pay for it up front. Now things were starting to make a little more sense. If Mark had gone with Paul after the fire, it would explain where ‘Mark’ got his knowledge of how to cross between worlds. Grimm was wanted on several counts of fraud and forgery of official documents. So far though, he was good enough to keep slipping through the cracks of the legal system.

            So Hellboy was groggy and tired on his third night of vigil, but was glad he’d gotten the sleep. Liz said that he’d look much refreshed from it, and that made him chuckle. The fact that she could really tell what was going on under his tough, red hide always amazed him. He was drinking his seventh coffee of the night when the witching hour rolled around and the ground beneath his feet started to tremble.

            The very earth seemed to moan and a lump started to push itself up from beneath the sod... Now to Hellboy, if he was going to be graphic about it, the puckered hole that formed in the earth at the peak of the mound really did look like an asshole, and that the ground was about to take a dump... But that’s only if he was going to be graphic about it...

            The first thing that emerged from the hole was a filthy hand, and that’s when he heard distinct moans and sighs coming from under the ground, but there were far too many to be made by the man alone. The mound quivered again and Hellboy saw the start of the tattooed arm that was attached to the hand. Once he saw ink he recognized the man he’d seen having, he again crossed the circle, grabbed on to the hand and then pulled. The man came up screaming, even more wounded than before, naked, and the rest of him was just as filthy as his arm was.

            His hair, well that which wasn’t matted to his head with mud, was coppery red... which was different than Hellboy remembered. He was sure, even in the low candle light before, that it had been black. Red hair... Mark, the elder Callaway brother, had been a red head. Well at least he had that right. Something about a human crossing between worlds must have removed superficial things like hair dye... And if Mark had been living under the radar of the law and the IRS for this long, having red hair was far too recognizable.

            That mystery solved, they still had a wounded, dirty, and more importantly screaming man to deal with. “He’s gonna need a medic!” Hellboy barked over the man’s pained, wordless, howls. Liz dashed bravely to his side, figuring that if she could lead Hellboy to keeping a cool head, then she could certainly do the same for this guy.

            “Hey, shh” She said quietly and knelt down beside his prone form. “Shh, its okay, you’re back amongst the living now. We’re going to have someone patch you up as you’re hurt pretty badly, but you gotta calm down first.” Liz said. She’d taken his free hand, the one that didn’t still have an iron grip on Hellboy’s, and stroked his cheek gently.

            The man stopped screaming. His bewildered eyes looked up at her as he started to drag ragged breaths into his lungs. “Who are you?” He managed to ask.

            “Liz Sherman, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She said and pulled some of the clay mud away from his face. He then caught sight of Hellboy crouching beside her, looking equally as concerned for him. He slowly let go of his death grip on Hellboy’s hand, his own hand trembling as he did so.

            “You... You waited.” He rasped.

            “I told you I would. And I see you’ve met my friend and colleague Liz here... Now we’re gonna get some very good medical people to start patching you up, okay?” Hellboy replied.

            “In a second.” The man said, closing his eyes and lolling his head away from Hellboy and Liz. He’d only just cleared them when he started to vomit up a steady stream of blood, which lasted for a good minute, and then he promptly passed out. He nearly fell into the pool of his own puke, but was held up by Liz and the lightening fast reflexes of Hellboy.

            “You always meet the most charming people.” Liz said dryly.

            “Hey, at least this one’s human... I think...” Hellboy said as a couple of the BPRD medics rushed in.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

            He woke up in what appeared to be a hospital bed. He was groggy, but lately, since the start of his trouble, he’d gotten used to being in pain and waking up in a strange place. A smallish man, well into his senior years, sat beside the bed and observed him through round, wireframe glasses. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like John Hurt?” He asked in a tired, hoarse voice to the man watching him so intently.

            “Yes, Hellboy has on several occasions.” He replied in an aging voice with an upper class English accent. The man on the bed smirked, despite obviously still being in a lot of pain.

            “Hellboy... Who came up with that? He doesn’t look much like a boy to me.”

            “He did back in 1944 when I first held him in my arms Mr. Callaway.” The old man said. The man on the bed suddenly looked like he’d seen a ghost. “We do know a little about you already. Your real name is Mark Callaway. You are just nearing your thirtieth birthday. Your parents were Randall Callaway and Susanna Kane-Callaway. Your brother is Glen... And as a point of interest, you sir, are legally dead.”

            “Mark _is_ dead... All that’s left is this shell.” He said and closed his eyes.

            “Well, after the beatings you’ve sustained, I wouldn’t at all be surprised if that was your opinion... But, for the sake of argument, let’s give him a chance to come back to life with some time to heal, and possibly a good breakfast to get him started. Would you like breakfast, Mark?” He asked. Mark scrutinized him carefully. He had access to the old man’s name by thinking about it the right way, and he also knew just as quickly that while Professor Trevor “Broom” Bruttenholm was intensely interested in him, he also had no ill will or malicious intent towards him... It was a nice change of pace for Mark when he considered who he usually associated with.

            “No one has called me Mark, or offered me breakfast in a very long time.” Mark said softly.

            “Well, if you’ll let me, I’d consider it an honour to do both things.” Bruttenholm said with a kind smile on his face. Mark took a long breath and met his eye.

            “I’d like that very much.” He said. The slightest hint of his old Southern drawl crept into his voice when he added “Thank you” to his statement.

            Mark only ate lightly, claiming that his stomach was still upset from his ordeal. Bruttenholm discovered that he was a lean protein and whole grain eater, and was particular about what he put into his body. Far more so than Hellboy would ever be.

            Despite his advancing years, Bruttenholm found himself excited about this new arrival and had to hold back his questions. For one, the man in the bed was still injured quite badly, and for another, he didn’t want to scare him off. Mark Callaway would be good for multiple years’ worth of research, long outlasting his remaining lifespan, if they could get him to agree to it. He would be a wealth of information... And moreover, Hellboy, whom he trusted to be an excellent intuitive judge of character, thought Mark was quote “an okay guy”. Which he’d said so while the unconscious Mark had been cleaned up by the medical staff, after having been air lifted to the BPRD head quarters.

            It would be nice, and rather useful, to have someone of Mark’s knowledge and power on the same side as those “who bumped back” Bruttenholm thought.

            “Where’s Red?” Mark asked as he weakly buttered a slice of whole wheat toast.

            “He’s catching up on some sleep, and then will be filing monotonous, and yet necessary paperwork about his activities over the last twelve days or so.” Bruttenholm answered.

            “Christ, have I been out that long?” Mark asked. Bruttenholm ignored the profanity for the time being.

            “No, he was investigating another matter, which he was finishing up, when he stumbled upon you.”

            “Ah, that makes sense.” Mark said, and gave a small nod of his head.

            “May I ask you why you haven’t been called Mark in a long time? Is it because of an assumed name?”

            “Technically, no.” Mark replied and took another long, slow breath. Like he was putting together all that he was about to say before he spoke. When he did start talking, Bruttenholm noticed very quickly that he rarely used um or ah to fill space between sentences. “Mostly these days I just get called ‘Taker’, which is a short form of “The Undertaker”. I’ve never embalmed a body in my life, but I have spent plenty of time around the dead. The name came from a sweet old voodoo priestess in New Orleans who needed help with some zombies that were made by an amateur who wasn’t skilled or strong enough to keep control of them.” Mark took a bite of the toast, and took his time to chew slowly.

            “Hellboy said that you have telekinetic abilities as well.” Bruttenholm said, subtly probing for more information.

            “Yeah, I got alla that shit... It started with the psychic ability when I was little, and then growing up where I did, it didn’t take me long to sort of specialize. When humans die, something of their energy is left behind on this earth, to linger in time... Unless someone like me figures out how to channel it. Well, it wasn’t actually me who figured it out. I was a kind of stupid kid, all over confident and full of myself... Paul showed me how to consciously channel it, and hell; I still haven’t found the bottom of it. Anyways, that’s why I get called Taker. I’ve done everything from ridding wealthy people’s houses of spooks, to pretty much what would be considered merciful euthanasia. It’s sick, but you’d be surprised how many folks request my services as a ‘mercy killing’. Technically I don’t kill them, I just take what they already don’t need, and it seems to let them cross over.” Mark said. Bruttenholm nodded slowly, both surprised and delighted that Mark was speaking so candidly and easily to him.

            It was then Mark noticed movement in the open doorway of the room. Hellboy was there, looking vaguely uncomfortable, and pretty much like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Hey, mind if I join you?” He asked. He was holding a plate of pancakes in one hand with a fork perched precariously on top of the stack, and an oversized mug of coffee in between the thumb and forefinger of his stone right hand. Mark knew almost instantly that Hellboy had an aversion to this place. Then just as quickly pinned down that it was an aversion to the memory of a place like it... And in another instant, he knew of Professor Bruttenholm’s cancer, and the at the time radical new treatment of ‘chemotherapy’ which had saved his life.

            “Please do” Mark said, managing to point to the other chair in the room. He was in the midst of trying to sort out the mutual memories of a father and son... And he was left in awe by the affection they had for one another, though they rarely showed it. He’d long ago had to forget what familial closeness felt like.

            Hellboy placed the coffee cup on the bedside table, and balanced the plate in his right hand. “You won’t mind if I stay standing will you? That chair was not built for the likes of me.” He said. Mark smiled and nodded.

            “Not at all... I know what it’s like to be big and tall in an average sized world.” Mark said. Hellboy smirked as he leaned carefully against the wall, his tail off the ground, and twitching back and forth at seemingly its own pace.

            “Look, I know you’re tired and hurting, but I got some questions for ya.” Hellboy said.

            “For paperwork or to satisfy your own curiosity?” Bruttenholm asked, while the barest of smirks crossed his features.

            “Curiosity first, paperwork second” Hellboy answered.

            “Well, I suppose that’s far better than where you normally rank paperwork.” Bruttenholm said with a nod. “So long as Mark feels up to it.”

            “Fire away” Mark said and then sipped at the large glass of orange juice that had come with the tray of food.

            “Okay, for starters, what’s your perspective on the fire that burned your house down?” Hellboy asked and Mark’s gulp was audible. He took a second and collected his thoughts. Suddenly, in his mind, he was fourteen years old again and running for his life. He got a cold look in his eyes, and perhaps for a small moment, just from the ‘absolute zero’ temperature look that Mark gave him, Hellboy wished he hadn’t asked. But then Mark’s face regained its amiability, if not completely the warmth it had before, and he started speaking.

            “Well, since you know my name and that I am listed as legally dead, I’m going to assume that you’ve read the old news reports, so you already know the basic timeline. The fire probably started in the early afternoon and only reached the embalming room after smoldering for a time in the workshop attached to the house. My father was something of a purist. He did much of the carpentry work that used to be associated with undertakers, so there was plenty of flammable material around the place. I know my mother and father were supposedly killed in the resulting explosion when the blaze hit the tanks of embalming fluid... But to tell you the unvanquished truth, Red, I wasn’t there.” Mark said and took another deep breath.

            “Earlier that day I was messing around with firecrackers and Glen was there because he used to follow me everywhere... Like any stupid kid, I got caught at what I was doing fairly quickly and was punished. Not so much for doing it, but for setting a bad example for Glen, who was too young at the time to know how to use fire with any responsibility. So, with a sound thrashing bringing up welts on my back, I was sent about some chores... Bringing mail to the post office, the butcher shop for my mother, you know the kind of stuff that’s expected of you when you’re fourteen... Fuck, this all seems so long ago now.” Mark got a far away look in his eyes, and it took a moment for him to shake himself back to reality. Hellboy stood, mildly eating his breakfast, unfazed but at the same time was already riveted to Mark’s version of events. The same went for Professor Bruttenholm.

            “Your old man hit you?” Hellboy asked.

            “I was fourteen and pushing six feet... Of course he hit me.” Mark replied. “Anyways, since my ego was bruised as well, I took my sweet time getting back from the errands, and stopped to see a couple of friends on the way, which delayed me by a few hours. When I finally felt I should grace them with my presence again, I started home... I heard the sirens and saw the smoke from blocks away. I dropped a damn expensive roast in the gutter and ran and ran...” Mark stopped talking for a moment, the look on his face absolutely haunted by his memories.

            “I was just rounding the corner when Paul, my father’s assistant grabbed me and hustled me into a car. I was hollering as loud as I could, but in the confusion, smoke, and the forming dusk, no one noticed either of us... Fuck I was a dumb kid back then... But I had this blossoming ability to read people’s minds, and to take ‘power’ from the dead, and Paul knew it. He found me one night in the embalming room, completely entranced by a body that had died violently. There’s a certain kick to those people... I was sleep walking at the time, and Paul knew most everything about me before I did really... He told me that he got me out of there to avoid me getting close enough to the bodies of my family so I wouldn’t absorb their lingering energy, and hence most likely be sent insane by the experience.” Mark’s voice started to reveal more than a tinge of bitterness.

            “You know, that fucker says to this day that he ‘saved’ me that night... Saved me from what I don’t know. But I have a sinking feeling that it was probably better than having to live with this... With what Glen thinks I did.” Mark pointed to a prominent burn on his neck. It was distinctly hand shaped, with blurred, but individual fingers visible.

            “What does Glen think you did?” Hellboy asked, a natural investigator now.

            “He thinks I started the fire for one, and there is no reasoning with him now apparently.” Mark replied.

            “So it’s Glen that’s been beating on you.” Hellboy deduced. Mark cleared his throat uncomfortably and then nodded.

            “Yes” He said simply. “When he can find me of course. He has an edge on that because of Paul.”

            “And what does Paul have to do with Glen coming after you?” Hellboy asked. “And why don’t you fight back?”

            “Paul took me ‘in’ after that night, and took me away with the express purpose of making himself wealthy... When I finally got smart enough to realize this about five or six years ago, I bid him adieu and struck out on my own. He was not happy to see his meal ticket walk... So he somehow tracked down Glen and told him that not only had I survived, but that I had started the fire.” Mark said. “I still don’t know how the hell they found each other. I mean, it was a shock to me to find out Glen was alive, and I’m psychic... I guess Paul and I booked it so fast that I never even considered the possibility of Glen surviving. When you’re young, you have this natural selfishness, and I was so focused on my own grief and loss that I didn’t even think to question Paul about anybody else surviving the fire.” Mark took another pause. His voice was quiet and dark when he spoke again.

            “There’s a good chance that Paul knew all along, simply by reading the newspapers at the time. Now that I know Glen’s alive, I finally went back and read all the old articles myself. I was too distraught and messed up at the time to do so then.” Mark managed another sip of the large glass of orange juice. His hand was trembling slightly as he did so.

            “And while what my father was doing back then was illegal, I think it was honourable in a way. He allowed a few bodies to make it home to be buried by loved ones.” Mark said and stopped short. That was apparently all he was going to say on the topic of his father’s illegal activities.

            “I asked another question back there.” Hellboy said. “Why don’t you fight back?” He asked, keeping his reminder gentle.

            “Because the last time I saw my family alive, I was being told that I had a responsibility to be an example for my little brother to follow... And despite being bruised and pissed off when I was getting the what for, I promised my father that yes, I would try harder to do that. So what kind of example would I be if I just started throwing fists like an idiot? Glen and I should be united against Paul, the weasely prick, not divided by him.” Mark concluded. Hellboy nodded, satisfied with that response.

            “So, why are you being so up front with me? You don’t really have any reason to be.”

            “Well, I am psychic, so I have a thing with lying. People can’t lie to me, so I feel I shouldn’t lie to them. And the other reason is that you pulled me out the other night... When my hand pushed up through the earth, I had nothing left in me. Everything, all my energy, all my resolve was spent. I was going to suffocate on the brink of my salvation with all that earth crushing down on me... And then you took my hand, and pulled me back. I owe you an explanation at the very least.”

            Professor Bruttenholm could no longer contain himself. “Do you know if your brother has any talents like yourself, Mark?” He asked.

            “He snaps his fingers and he’s got an inferno on the go within seconds.” Mark offered and pointed to the burn on his neck again. “Other than that, I don’t know.”

            “So he’s a pryokinetic like Liz then.” Hellboy said. Mark raised his brow for a second as he recalled the lovely woman he’d met the other night.

            “I shoulda figured you folks would have some technical name for it.” Mark mused.

            “One more question if I may?” Hellboy asked. Mark shrugged his response. “Where did you end up going? It sure wasn’t Heaven, judging by the means and condition you returned in, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Hell either.”

            “Purgatory would be the only name I could use that you would instantly recognize. There’s a section of it, reserved for cases like my family. My mother and father wait in relative comfort there until a time when we can all be reunited for awhile... Then Heaven, Hell, or back here, we can go our separate ways in peace and knowing what we all need to know.” Mark replied softly. “And before you ask, no I hadn’t been there before, so I didn’t know if Glen was already there or not... Crossing worlds was an act of desperation on my part.”

            “What did you talk about?” Hellboy was finished his plate of food now, and set it on the rolling table that also held Mark’s breakfast tray. He focused on his still partially full over-sized coffee mug.

            “I wanted to know if they would able to forgive me for defending myself against Glen.” Mark said.

            “And what was the verdict?”

            “No” Mark said softly. There was a lot of defeat and hopelessness in his voice. “They said no... But they told me why at least.”

            “That was decent of them. Normally in this line of work, all you get is more questions.” Hellboy said and grinned, trying to lighten the mood. Mark weakly returned the gesture, but his face quickly fell back to what it had been, strained and worried.

            “Paul’s got some kind of hold on Glen that I can’t feel, so he must have blocked me somehow from detecting it. I have to figure out a way to break it without doing any harm to Glen... One thing about Glen when he was a kid was that he was almost too trusting. We had to watch him real close if we went anywhere, or even if he was just playing outside. We had to make sure that he wasn’t just going to walk off with a stranger. So that’s why he was always following me around, it was encouraged, and that’s why my hide got so tanned that day. Momma called Glen a gentle soul... Dad called him feeble. Either way, he needed looking after and direction... Well apparently now he’s got it, and it’s in the general vicinity of my untimely and unnatural demise.” He suddenly looked very tired on top of looking worried. He sighed, then yawned slightly and rubbed his eyes.

            “So, where the hell am I?” Mark asked.

            “The headquarters of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense.” Bruttenholm said. Mark looked to Hellboy for further explanation.

            “Jersey” Hellboy said, and Mark nodded, obviously seeking this as the answer.

            “That is gonna be a hell of a shipping bill.” Mark muttered.

            “What do you need brought here?” Bruttenholm asked.

            “Clothes would be a nice start... Along with my ‘necessaire’.” Mark said, his voice assuming a perfect French accent for the single word.

            “Give me the location and we’ll have agents bring it all up.” Bruttenholm said.

            “That would be appreciated... Also, I or someone should call my girlfriend... I hate to have left her to worry for so many days on end.”

            “You have a girlfriend?” Hellboy asked.

            “She’s the daughter of the aforementioned Voodoo priestess who gave me my ‘nom de guerre’. Trust me when I tell you, Voodoo priestesses are not the kind of people you want to keep waiting around. So I should probably let her know where I am.” Mark said with a quirky smile. He still looked ready to pass out though.

            “Just doesn’t seem like something you’d be interested in. Normally, your sort isn’t interested in things so mundane as romance and family.” Hellboy reasoned.

            “When I got out from under Paul’s thumb, my first two priorities were to get drunk, and then to find a girlfriend. I just wanted to feel something again. All that time spent living for a purpose that was not my own had gotten me rather numb. Paul also had a talent for mixing up drug cocktails that kept me nice and compliant.” Mark explained. “Jacqueline helped bring me back to life as it were, including a very long detox... And I am ever grateful for that.”

            “We’ll get ya a phone hooked up in here, ain’t that right, sir?” Hellboy asked, looking to Professor Bruttenholm, who nodded ever so slightly.

            “I’ll see what I can do.” He said.

            “Thank you.” Mark said. Again his old drawl crept into his voice once more as he did so.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

            Mark spent a week in bed, and was grateful for the reprieve from having to constantly duck and run from his vengeful brother. So far he’d been taking off to random places, and trying his best to not have any particular destination in mind. That made it a little more difficult for Paul to pinpoint his location. He’d been back and forth across the southern states so far, and knew that leaving the country was useless. He’d tried to vanish into Copper Canyon in Mexico, and all it had done was taken them a little longer to catch up with him... In fact, it was after that incident that he’d gone back to Texas to visit his parents’ graves... which in turn, had gotten him laid up in Jersey. Still being in Jersey at least gave him the time it would take for Paul and Glen to travel here.

            He’d called Jacqueline a few times, but had only gotten to speak to her once. She knew that he was alive, and receiving medical treatment for injuries, but that was about it. He was somewhat paranoid about Paul finding out about her, and going to New Orleans to flush him out. So he’d kept the talk sweet and the details short. He was just happy to hear her voice and know that there was someone in this world that actually gave a shit whether he lived or died.

            Mark knew full well that Jacqueline and her family could defend themselves rather easily against Paul’s power, and Glen’s too when he thought about it. But Mark, after all he’d been through still had a chivalrous streak in him, and would not stand by if they tried to do anything to them. Besides, they would most likely end up having to hurt Glen, and Mark didn’t want that either.

            He wondered how long it would be before Paul and Glen caught up to him again. The lag time between skirmishes was getting shorter and shorter... At least when he’d been crisscrossing the south west, it had been less populated, so there were less chance of incidental casualties. Now that he was here, the body count would most likely climb. Because Mark knew that while his brother could control fire, he suspected that he also liked to start them as well. They would start as soon as they arrived. Paul might trigger Glen to burn down all of Manhattan when they got to this area, simply if he felt like it.

            The only time he’d encountered raw power like Glen had, was perhaps in himself. But Mark knew that he could control himself... It was the untapped and possibly uncontrolled power in Glen that gave him pause. He hadn’t started to fight Glen right off because he hadn’t known the depth of power he had, and really still didn’t. Mark was not the sort to get into a fight that he didn’t know if he could win. He relied on being more knowledgeable than his opponent to help him focus his energies on the attack... And if Glen had any powers similar to his own, Mark knew that they would most likely be quite unrefined and unpredictable. It took him years to even start to put things together, and he knew that he still had much to learn.

            Though with his parents’ “no”, that eliminated the use of force in dealing with Glen. While he didn’t like the answer he’d gotten, he would try his best to respect their wishes. If only because they were right. If Glen’s mind wasn’t his own, then he was not responsible for his actions and did not deserve Mark’s rebuke...

            ... But from the looks of it, Paul sure as hell did... The fat man was going to pay for what he’d done to Mark and now to Glen, and in the course of that, Mark was going to get his little brother back. Then with the two of them united, no would dare try to take advantage of them again. Mark would take Glen and go back to New Orleans and move in with his Jacqueline, and maybe start that family she’d mentioned wanting ‘someday’ if she was willing. They could make a decent living on their type of ‘solutions’, especially in a place like New Orleans. He smiled at the thought.

            “What are you grinning about?” Hellboy asked as he walked into the room carrying a set of saddlebags for a motorcycle. Another man followed Hellboy, though Mark wasn’t quite sure if was a man at all upon first glance. He had gray-green skin and absolutely no hair. His appearance made more bizarre by the fact that he was carrying the backpack Mark had been using for his clothes on his travels, and his boots. Then Mark picked up on his thought pattern as sentient and intelligent. Very intelligent to be precise, and Mark could see a soul behind the man’s large, luminous eyes.

            “The smirk is for the return of my ‘necessaire’... And jeans that fit.” Mark said and eyed the back pack. Hellboy and the other man chuckled.

            “Mark Callaway, this is Abraham Sapien. Abe, same thing, names reversed. Abe here is another agent with the Bureau, but he was on assignment this week. On his way back, he picked up your stuff.”

            “Nice to meet you.” Mark said, sitting up slowly and offering his hand for Abe to shake. “And thanks for the special delivery.”

            “Not a problem Mr. Callaway. Though it was interesting to arrange transport for that impressive motorcycle of yours.” Abe said and shook his hand. He was surprised. Usually people were more put off by his appearance than Hellboy’s. Hellboy looked the part of a demon, but quite often Abe assumed people saw it as a more familiar shape than his own.

            “Call me Mark.” The man on the bed said and broke off the brisk, hearty handshake.

            “Then please call me Abe.”

            “Sure... Yeah the bike... That was my third priority after getting out of my life as an indentured servant and power generator.” Mark said, still smirking.

            “Yeah, we took a look at it... Bet she _goes_ too.” Hellboy said.

            “Damn right” Mark agreed with a nod. Abe had set the backpack on the bed to shake Mark’s hand and Mark was immediately into it. He removed the pale blue hospital gown, pulled on a black t-shirt, swung his legs over the side of the bed and found a pair of blue jeans that had seen better days and put them on. Socks and the boots were next and then he pulled a brush through his hair and tied it back. A bandanna and a set of sunglasses perched on his forehead later and he was feeling a lot more in control of his life. He knew his face probably still looked like it had been through a meat grinder, but at least he _felt_ better.

            “You wanna get some lunch with me and Abe, and then we’ll get you set up in a proper room?” Hellboy asked.

            “Uh, sure. Sounds great.” Mark replied as he stood up and put the backpack over his shoulder. He didn’t wince, even though it hurt. He still had too much pride to let other guys carry his stuff for him. He picked up the saddle bags and considered that it was a bit sad that all he had to show for all his power was three changes of clothes and saddlebags full of charms, small portable spell books, candles, and both a jack knife and large ceremonial knife... But he was also proud on another level that this was all he needed. That and the big wad of cash that was in the leather jacket at the bottom of the right saddlebag... That helped a lot too.

 

            “So, you never did tell me what you were investigating in Texas.” Mark said. He, Hellboy, and Abe were seated at a table in a common area, with plates of food filled to various capacities. Hellboy’s being the most heaping of course.

            “Goatman” Hellboy said and Mark rolled his eyes with a knowing look on his face. “You know about them?” Hellboy asked.

            “Sometimes I think the South West is fucking lousy with them. I mean, hiding in the bushes and beating off watching teenagers make out? Creepy enough... However the whole ‘killing aforementioned teens with a big fucking ax’, that’s a little extreme even for me. The fewer of them, the better I say."

            “Agreed” Hellboy replied. “Do you know anything about their origin? Last I heard was a theory about an individual one who was a scientist and became his own experiment gone wrong.”

            “From what little I know, they are in fact a race of their own, but with mystical origins as I heard it. Though how they breed is a mystery to me. I heard stories of old timers and cowboys gone crazy with lust and loneliness... Kind of like a Wendigo. It overtakes them and they become physically what they are mentally... Actually there was a rumour flying around that La Llorona had found herself a goatman and started a new family. But I don’t know anything more about it... Don’t ask me how those chromosomes even _start_ to match up.”

            “A new family? La Llorona? Be serious.” Hellboy said.

            “Hey, that’s what I heard... I hear a lot of weird shit though.” Mark said.

            “Really, it wouldn’t be the strangest coupling we’ve heard of.” Abe mused. It was Hellboy’s turn to roll his eyes and then focused his attention back on his plate. Mark had to chuckle at this situation, truly amused by the moment.

 

            Mark spent the next few days sleeping, speaking with Professor Bruttenholm, and hanging out with Hellboy, who was on some downtime at the moment. He would admit that he was getting to like “Red”. He hadn’t had a real friend since his home burned down all those years ago, and Hellboy had a real world practicality mixed in with a somewhat stunted sense of social decorum from lack of exposure to the everyday life. Mark understood that immediately.

            He was also taking a liking to Bruttenholm and his gentle nature, as everyone else around here seemed to. Mark answered a lot of his questions, wrote down a lot of spells, lists of ‘ingredients’, and descriptions of arcane rituals. Bruttenholm noticed immediately that Mark had a studious way about him that Hellboy, while extremely intelligent, never had. And it was all the tip of the iceberg.

            “I do have to admit that I’ve wondered why you are sharing all of this with us.” Bruttenholm asked him when they were finishing up for the evening.

            “Because first of all, it takes a certain amount of power to do much what I’ve described to you. Unless you’ve already got it in you to do this stuff, you simply won’t be able. And secondly, it’s really the ultimate thing I can do to enrage Paul... If what he does isn’t so secret anymore, then people won’t fear him like he wants. Others can discover their own latent power, and the market for what he does will open up... Essentially sir, I’m destroying his private monopoly by making a free market. Those who need services that only people like me can offer will still come to me. Paul’s middleman gig will fade into obsolescence. So really, you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you.” Mark said, and then smirked. Bruttenholm nodded and returned the expression. They exited the office and headed for a late dinner.

 

            Mark was watching the news in Hellboy’s room two days after his dinner with Bruttenholm, and almost feeling normal again, when he spotted what he was looking for. “A mysterious fire ripped through the Bronx today, decimating most of an entire block of row houses and apartment buildings. Hundreds have been left homeless...”

            “Shit, that’s it” Mark said and got to his feet.

            “What’s it?” Hellboy asked.

            “Paul and Glen are on their way here, and are trying to get my attention.” Mark said.

            “How do you know that?”

            “Because most everything Glen touches ends up ablaze lately... I’m not sure if he’s even aware of the destruction he’s committing.” Mark only paused long enough to take a breath. “Look, I’ve got to lead him away from here. I’ll just get my shit and go. Then I’ve got to figure out how to get to Paul without Glen around. It would help if he hadn’t fucked with my head so much when I was younger. It’s all a series of mental booby traps and landmines where it concerns me taking action against Paul in any malevolent way.” Mark headed for the door then, determined and seemingly uncaring if Hellboy followed him or not.

            On some level though, he hoped Hellboy would follow him, and yet was fully prepared to deal with this on his own should he not.

            “Where do you want to lead him to?” Hellboy asked as he caught up to Mark in the hallway, his long trench coat already over his right shoulder, and he was fiddling to get it over the left. Mark let out an inner sigh of relief.

            “Somewhere that has as little population as possible.” Mark replied. “Otherwise people are going to die for something they had no idea existed, let alone anything to do with.” He was headed to the modest room with the big, comfortable bed where they’d set him up. He could still feel all the pain that went with walking this quickly. He’d healed a lot in the last couple of weeks, but not nearly as much as he would have liked. Still, Mark did it because he had to. He wanted as little innocent blood on his hands as possible. It let him sleep a little easier at night.

            “Would it help if I got us clearance to investigate the scene of the fire? Will there be anything of use to us there?” Hellboy asked. Mark opened the unlocked door to the room. He was a guest in unfamiliar territory, but he trusted his benefactors. Besides, the folks around here would know how hard it was to steal from a psychic.

            “It would probably be a good start.” Mark replied honestly. “I haven’t ever gone to the scene of one of them.”

            “Trying to avoid the guilt?” Hellboy leaned on the door frame of the room, which held his bulk without protest. Mark paused mid stride, and sighed heavily.

            “Give the man a cigar.” Mark said. He turned and looked back at Hellboy, who was smirking slightly. “Look Red, I’ll be straight with you as that policy seems to work best between us. For the last five years, my life has been about survival. And while I haven’t done anything directly to hurt anybody else, I haven’t been all that helpful to the human race either. Essentially, I became exactly like Paul... And only realized that when Glen started to come after me. All I wanted was to get by, take care of my own, and nothing more. I even tried to quit this ya know? Like it was some drug I could kick the habit of.” Mark chuckled and rolled his eyes.

            “I got a straight job working construction. It went along great until we found an old slave cemetery when we were digging a foundation. The entire neighbourhood started to suffer from some very disturbed, and rightly pissed off spirits.”

            “I read about that. Two weeks of hell for those people. Incidents like blood pouring down the walls of office buildings and screams twenty-four hours a day. Even the archeologists trying to excavate the cemetery carefully were too hassled to work... But before I could get down there, the disturbance petered out.” Hellboy said. “And if I remember correctly, there were reports of someone in particular putting a stop to it all, but no one saw him after he did it, and no one could seem to remember his name or what he looked like.”

            “Yeah, that’d be me. I couldn’t take it anymore... They were calling my damn name, Red. They said I owed it to them. But I figured after so many years living under Paul’s whim, that I didn’t owe anybody a goddamned thing. This only changed when I got too frustrated with their presence and acted. I set them all ‘free’ one day after yet another ‘broken equipment caused by poltergeist activity’ induced break. I went to the saddlebags on my bike, got what I needed, and then proceeded to scare the ever living shit out of everyone by absorbing the power that kept the ghosts together on this level of existence... Everybody saw it. But I was so annoyed, and half crazy with them calling my name and screaming at me, that I didn’t care. I was politely asked by the onsite foreman to leave and never come back when I came out of my trance. Some of the guys thanked me as I got my shit together and left, but most looked at me like I was the devil himself walking among them.” Mark started rummaging around, getting things together, and putting on his boots.

            “You know, when this is all over, you should stay... Father would love to really get to know you, and what you know, on more than just a superficial level. It would certainly keep him occupied and outta my hair... And while we don’t get much in the way of thanks, we do get paid at least.” Hellboy said.

            “For now, I just gotta get Glen to stop this insane arson kick, and then I’ll think about it.” Mark said.

            “Great. I’m gonna talk to the right people about getting us clearance to go poke around in the ashes.” Hellboy said and then left Mark to his own devices.

            Mark looked over to where his humble, worn saddle bags had been dumped near the bed. He set them up on the desk in the room and started to sort though the contents.

            From the right one, he pulled a beaten up leather jacket. Mark muttered a few words and gave the jacket a shake. Suddenly it was an ankle length leather coat. If he was going into ‘battle’ he may as well look the part. He pulled the wad of cash from the pocket and left it in the bag. Moving to the other side, he pulled out a small, carved wooden box, a palm sized leather notebook, and a sturdy old jack knife. One never knew what could arise in this sort of situation.

            He also pulled out what been a gift from his Jacqueline’s mother. It was a short and thick, but rather plain looking metal bar with two balls on either end. He unscrewed one of the balls and placed the curved bar through a piercing in his right eyebrow. The silver looked like mercury for a moment and remade itself into its true form, which was that of a snake swallowing its tail. The object would give him an extra ‘eye’ and he would be able to see through any false face or shadow that Paul might use to trick him with.

            That done, he said a few prayers and requests for protection from various ‘friendly’ gods and attending spirits, and put on his coat after tucking the jack knife into the leather upper of his boot.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

            “Nice coat” Hellboy said. Mark was walking towards a Chevy Suburban and a retrofitted army transport where several people were milling around.

            “Thanks” Mark said, once more perching his sunglasses on top of his head, being careful not to snag the ring in his eyebrow.

            “I didn’t figure you for a jewelry kind of guy.” Liz said as they climbed in.

            “Think of it as x-ray specs.” Mark said cryptically, and managed a smile at her. They sat beside one another in the back of the Suburban for the ride.

            _“Can you hear me Liz?”_ Mark asked with his mind after the small talk was over with, and everyone sat in comfortable silence. Her head snapped around to face him. _“Just think your answer and I’ll know.”_

            _“Well obviously.”_ She replied.

            _“Look, I’ve got a favour to ask you... You’re the only one who really knows anything about what it is that Glen can do. I have no clue how to handle him or even start talking to him... But you might. And I’m begging you to help me with him. If Paul has got a hold of him like I was told he does, then he’s not responsible in the slightest for what he’s done. But I’m willing to bet that Paul hasn’t blocked the memories from his mind... He could be really damaged from all this. He was sweet and trusting as a kid, so I can only imagine what all of this has done to him.”_ Mark said.

            _“You want me to help him if he thinks he’s nothing more than a crazy fire starter.”_ Liz concluded.

            _“Yes”_ Mark replied simply.

            _“This is part of what I do, Mark.”_

            _“I know that, but I also know that it will bring your own past close to the surface and that it pains you greatly.”_

_“Don’t go poking around in my brain.”_ Her reply was stern. Mark’s face remained neutral, as if he’d forgotten that facial expressions helped in all conversations, even psychic ones.

            _“Sorry Liz, but I can’t help knowing what you broadcast.”_ The voice Liz heard was gentle, understanding, and calculated just to the right degree to make sure she wouldn’t get angry with him. _“Anyways, if you know of anything that might get through to Glen, I’d be most grateful.”_

            _“What kind of grateful?"_ She asked.

            _“What kind of grateful would you like? Ask, and it is yours.”_ He said. Liz had to think long and hard about that one. She had a feeling that he’d meant every word.

            _“I might know a few things to say to him.”_ She said. She settled her gaze back out the tinted window. _“So, what did you mean by x-ray specs?”_ She asked without looking back at him. Mark chuckled to himself. Her tone was pure curiosity, and he admired that innocent thirst for knowledge which he knew he would never have again.

            _“It lets me see that which may otherwise be hidden from me specifically, by someone who knows my mind well enough to do that sort of thing.”_ Mark explained.

            _“Ah, x-ray specs.”_ Liz said and smirked.

            The whole place smelled vile. They were given a potent mint gel to rub under and into their noses to cut the worst of it. They were told to be careful and to never be alone in case of any collapsing floors. If they came across a body, they were to report it immediately via walkie-talkie. The remaining smoke and caustic stench burned their eyes and sunk into their hair.

            Hellboy hung close to Mark. The investigators on scene who knew of the B.P.R.D’s operations were told that Mark was one of their ‘in house psychics’, that he was new to his job, but knew his business well, and to leave him alone to do it.

            Firefighters were still crawling all over the place, hosing down hotspots and warning them where not to step. It was obvious that many of them had an instinctual feel for these old buildings now lying in ash and smoke. Flash bulbs also went off constantly as the entire scene was photographed for evidence.

            Despite what he’d been told, one of the investigators approached Mark fearlessly. “Because of the speed with which it spread and the intensity of the blaze, we’re still having some trouble finding where it started. You got one of those crackpot psychic flashes about that?” The investigator was middle aged and had obviously seen way too much of this kind of thing to have it keep him up at night anymore. Still, Mark glowered at the man and pointed to a spot some distance away that was still being hosed down.

            “You are going to find an oddity in the foundation of this building and the next. There will be a brick lined tunnel large enough for a man and a large container of alcohol to crawl through. There was once a speakeasy here during the prohibition days, with the old distillery being in the basement of the adjoining building. There were quite a few forgotten, but wax sealed and still potable bottles of bathtub gin in the tunnel. That was the accelerant. The arsonist made up jug band sized Molotov Cocktails and hurled them against the lathe board in the basement. As for an incendiary device that got the jugs going, or how it got this big, this fast, I don’t know.” Mark said with a certain amount of venom in his voice. Clearly he was upset with the man’s nonchalance about the situation. His last sentence had been a needed lie to protect Glen. Still, the investigator stood slack-jawed before him.

            “Holy shit” He said, and then looked to Hellboy. “Tell the Bureau to keep this guy. He sounds like the real deal.”

            “You really are good.” Hellboy said after the investigator went back to check Mark’s prediction of the turn of events.

            “Yeah, well, when you know the territory, it ain’t hard.” Mark said. Hellboy gave him a sideways look. “Paul and I lived in that building for three months when I was sixteen. Not being in school or having any friends meant that I had some time on my hands. I didn’t recognize the place on TV, just the neighbourhood when we got here. It makes sense for Paul to make Glen do this.”

            “Has Glen burned any other place that was significant to you?” Hellboy asked.

            “This place wasn’t significant, just recognizable. Paul and I came here, we completed his business in the area, and we left... I should get to the desert, where there isn’t as much to burn up.” Mark said.

            “You like it there, don’t you?” Hellboy asked.

            “Yeah I do.” Mark replied. “Fewer wayward spirits are there to bug me.”

            Mark let himself be seen, figuring that Paul and Glen were watching from a safe distance. He was trying to draw them out on one level. With Hellboy, Liz, and Abe here he could have them distract Glen away from him so Mark could confront Paul.

            _Why did you make him do it? All those people, for no reason at all._ Mark thought rather ‘loudly’ so Paul would have a chance to pick up on it. He wanted Paul’s attention this time. He had no reason to run with his new found allies around him. Mark already knew that there was no chance of changing Paul... All he wanted to do was make him understand the pain and misery he was inflicting on others. And because Paul was doing it because of Mark weighed heavily on him.

            He wasn’t sure if he should drop the hint that he knew Paul was controlling Glen. However, he also knew that Paul was rather good at figuring that kind of thing out for himself, so there couldn’t be too much harm in it. What he really wanted Paul to know was that he’d found some powerful back up, and that now the tables would be turned on Paul. For the next stage, Mark would lead them to where he wanted them, not run away.

            Mark felt a strange sense of calm about working for the ‘good guys’. The years prior had been mostly about establishing independence from anything that would try to control him. Now that he had that, he found himself comfortable being in close quarters with others. Though he assumed much of that comfort derived from his new allies being as strange as and stranger than himself. Their oddities made them instantly familiar to Mark in an all too normal world.

            His attention focused over on Liz, who was speaking with the investigator who’d just bothered him. She was in the process of confirming what Mark had told him strictly from the perspective of the fire’s progression. “But how did it spread damn so quickly?” He asked.

            “That’s why we’re here, sir.” Liz replied. “We’ll regroup, compare notes and hopefully come up with an answer for you.” She then politely said her goodbyes and rejoined Hellboy and Mark. “Well, I’ve seen enough, how about you guys?” She asked.

            “More than enough” Mark said quietly. He was still contemplating how to draw Paul and Glen out or at least well away from here. Hellboy and Liz started to head back to their transport and to collect Abe and the rest on the way. They passed the smoldering remains of what until recently had been homes and businesses. That’s when something caught Mark’s eye across the street, a movement between two fire trucks. “Oh, fuck me.” Mark said in an annoyed voice and then dashed around Hellboy and Liz.

            “Mark?” Hellboy asked. “Mark?!”

            Where ever Mark was headed, he was on the move. Hellboy gave chase as Mark ran across the closed off street, between the police cars and vanished around the corner of one of the fire trucks. Hellboy wasn’t sure if Liz had tried to follow them. There was no fear or quit in that woman, but the sensible thing would be to notify the rest of the investigation team. Hellboy rounded the corner of the truck to see the last trace of Mark’s long coat disappear down an alley. He didn’t slow his pace and didn’t bother to call Mark’s name again, because it was obvious that his attention was elsewhere.

            The alley was dark, and Hellboy had to give his eyes time to adjust. He could see Mark’s silhouette and more importantly, a soft blue glow either around him or coming off of him, which gave Hellboy just enough light to see by so he could pick his way to the back of the alley. As he got closer, Hellboy realized that the blue glow was coming from Mark’s right eye, the same side of his face that had the eyebrow piercing.

            What he was doing, was holding up a big damn rat by the throat against the sooty brick wall. “Tell your master and my sniveling younger brother that they can meet me in the desert, and that all hell is coming with me. Do you understand that you flea infested excrement?” Mark growled at the rodent. It squeaked, and hissed, and squirmed all to no avail. Mark’s grip was iron and the animal wasn’t going anywhere. “I asked you a question!” Mark shouted and Hellboy’s blood ran cold at the tone of Mark’s voice. Hellboy had heard the voice of pure evil before, of pure, selfish want, of pure unholy purpose... And Mark’s tone was the best human equivalent he’d ever heard. Mark squeezed the rodent’s throat tighter. It gasped for breath, but then nodded up and down visibly that it understood what Mark had told it. Its obsidian eyes glinted under the blue glow pouring from Mark’s eye.

            “Please” The two and a half foot long, not including tail, rodent gasped. “Have family... Please.” Mark sighed audibly, released his grip on its throat and unceremoniously dropped the rat to the cobblestones.

            “Yeah, your kind always has a family.” Mark grumbled.

            “Well, I am a rat.” The rat was most definitely female. Hellboy could tell that now. “I will bring your message to the master. Shall I specify a meeting place?” The rat asked while trying to put her whiskers back in order.

            “Just tell him the desert. He’ll know where I mean.” Mark said sternly. “Now go lowly servant, and perhaps one day your master will restore your human body.”

            “You could, My Lord Undertaker... I could be your servant instead.” She said.

            “You chose your loyalty... Now get out of my fucking sight!” Mark’s voice assumed the tone that made Hellboy shiver again. The rat seemed to have her very ratty sense of survival instinct intact, and she quickly scampered off into the gloom around the corner of the building. Mark turned to face Hellboy. His right eye was still ablaze with blue light.

            “What the hell was that?” Hellboy asked. “I mean, I’ve seen some monster rats in my day, even some that could talk, but none of them ever mentioned being human once.”

            “Most likely her current state was the price to be paid when she could not afford Paul’s services. Her role is to be slave ‘familiar’ to him as an information gatherer. He has them all over.” Mark said and they headed for the relative safety of the streetlights once more.

            “What did you do to your voice back there? You had me quaking.”

            “Smoke and mirrors to make me sound my most intimidating. It’s rather effective against all those like her as well. They scare easy.”

            “Why did you say you were going to fight Glen?”

            “Technically I didn’t... I just called for a meeting to flush them out. Meeting in my world usually means confrontation, but I didn’t say I was going to fight Glen.”

            “You _are_ good.” Hellboy said, and Mark grinned. “Are you actually going to meet them?”

            “Yep. I need to pack.”

            “I’m going with you, you know.” Hellboy said, and pulled a cigar out from his interior pocket.

            “I kinda figured that’s what you’d say... That’s why I threw in the ‘all hell’s coming with me’ comment.” Mark said.

            “Aw, nice of you to think of me during your little shakedown there.” Hellboy said and went for his lighter.

            “I try.” Mark said, as they rounded the corner of the building. The streetlights cut much of the light coming from Mark’s eye, and they walked back to their transport to head back to Jersey.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

            Mark let the bike stretch itself out as he rode along what was at one time Route 66, over a straight patch in Oklahoma. If one knew where to go, they could still drive much of it. He’d chosen to drive because of a personal distrust of flying, and let everyone at the B.P.R.D. know that loud and clear. Masters of the occult didn’t willingly throw themselves on to a plane, trusting their person to some idiot with a pilot’s license and most likely no psychic defenses at the helm. It was too risky for a man who had a list of enemies. Granted, most of those enemies were earned vicariously through Paul, but Mark had still been the one to cause the actions to earn those enemies. And perhaps he was selfish, but there was no way he wanted to end up among the charred corpses at the site of the crash.

            There were of course more direct routes to get where he was going, but that didn’t matter to him much. He would arrive when he arrived. Of course, that might not sit so well with Hellboy and the rest, but so far, they hadn’t argued him on it.

            In fact, he had a lot of peace of mind to have some back up in his corner. Mark had let Hellboy and Professor Bruttenholm know of his plan, and of his wishes if the plan went foul. His body was to be cremated and the ashes scattered in various points around the world to avoid anybody, particularly the likes of Paul, bringing him back.

            He also thought about the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. To continue to live as a ‘free’ man and not a caged experiment, he resigned himself to having to work with them. He hoped that he could fall into the role of a ‘consultant’ as opposed to a ‘field agent’ like Hellboy, Liz and Abe were. If only because he would have Glen to look after should things work out the way he hoped. Hoped. He hoped... Mark found himself subject to it more and more since he’d taken up with Jacqueline. The fact that she wanted him around thrilled him. The fact that he had a place to go after this ordeal was over astounded him.

            He watched the scenery fly by, and with the engine noise and the wind roaring in his ears, he could almost forget that he was being followed by that large, converted army transport which carried Hellboy, Liz, Abe, and a few other agents. He sat up, got his balance, and let go of the bike’s handle bars. It was a soft tail, disguised as a rigid, meant for long miles and that he could sit comfortably for a long time. He raised his arms and closed his eyes for just a moment... and he was flying, or at least it felt like it.

            Back in the front seat of the transport, Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Just what the hell is he doing?” She asked the driver, who smiled a little.

            “He’s either showing off... Or he’s a man completely one with his surroundings for a moment... But he’s probably just showing off.” The driver said and Liz had to laugh. She liked both answers.

            They were pulled over for the night and were eating supper which had been delivered to their hotel rooms, (which made both the small town’s pizza and Chinese joints very happy from the size of their order) when cell phones and com units started going off. Hellboy and Abe ignored theirs and kept on eating. Liz rolled her eyes and answered hers. “Uh-huh... yes... Hang on, he’s right here. I’ll get him.” Liz handed the phone to Hellboy who gave her an annoyed glare.

            “What?” Hellboy asked, with his annoyance showing in his voice. Quickly his expression changed to a much more genteel mood. “Oh crap, really?” He leaned forward on the table and the strain of the cheaply made furniture could be heard by the rest of the room’s occupants. “Well, damn.” Hellboy said lightly and took the bite of food on his fork and chewed before speaking next. “If anything, it’s convenient since we’re headed that way already. How many do you figure?” He swallowed. “Really? That many? Okay, sounds like something I’ll just have to beat down. But we got the big guns with us, she can probably handle it.” Hellboy gave a grin and a nod to Liz, who rolled her eyes. He paused again and considered what the person on the other end told him. “Great, so that means I’m gonna get wet... Hang on, I’ll ask him.” Hellboy looked to Mark. “Father wants to know if you can conjure a storm.”

            “Just tell me what kind.” Mark replied.

            “He says no problem.” Hellboy said into the phone and paused for another second, and then once again looked up to Mark. “Is where we’re headed anywhere near a river of substance, preferably mud bottomed?” He asked.

            “Not of much substance, it dries up real easy even if there’s not a drought going on... But I’m guessing that’s what the storm will be for.” Mark answered.

            “You’re a smart guy Mark.” Hellboy said. He then turned his attention back to the phone and said “Good night, father. We’ll handle it.” and then pressed the ‘end’ button on the phone. He took the opportunity to have a few more bites of his dinner in silence, while knowing everyone was waiting on him to explain what he’d been told. After a sip from can of soda and a sly smirk, he broke the tense silence.

            “Turns out your rumour may have a shred of truth to it, Mark. There are reports of hairy, goat headed people wrecking havoc all over rural Texas for the last week or so... As a point of interest, they all have extremely long fingers on one hand. I’m assuming their current pattern of destruction is because of my offing the run of the mill goat man just before we met.” Hellboy said.

            “Since when is a goat man run of the mill?” Abe quipped.

            “Be serious, Red.” Mark said, parroting Hellboy’s reaction from their prior conversation. He looked like he truly believed that Hellboy was yanking his chain.

            “I’m being perfectly serious. They seem to have La Llorona’s ghostly nature, appearing around the banks of mud bottomed rivers, dragging their fingers on one hand behind them. Usually in their other, more normal sized hand, they appear to be carrying hatchets or axes. So far they have supposedly taken out a few curious dogs on their travels. Luckily there have been no human casualties reported yet. So father had the idea of killing two birds with one stone by drawing the goat men out in the same place where you intend to meet Glen and Paul. Then you and I can switch rivals, and I can handle Glen without you having to hurt him, and hence you can keep your promise to your folks.”

            “I don’t want him hurt at all, Red. I want him rescued from the poisonous fuck what has enslaved his mind.” Mark replied. “I don’t even want Paul hurt so badly that I can’t sever his connection to Glen, and any lingering hold he has on me while I’m at it.”

            “All right, all right... We’ll do it the way you want. Father also assumed that you could attract the goat men with some kind of pheromone spell. Does that make any sense to you?”

            “Yeah, shouldn’t be too much of a problem... But I am going to need the eyelash of a fertile woman, complete with root.” Mark said. All eyes in the room immediately turned to Liz. She narrowed her eyes and Hellboy and Mark.

            “Why?” She asked.

            “Either I use your eyelash and fake the pheromones that attract the goat men with a spell, or we do it the natural way, and I’m pretty sure you have enough weird shit going on in your life as to want a roll in the hay with my freaky ass.” Mark replied. Liz sighed loudly.

            “This isn’t going to make me prone to goat man attacks in the future is it?” She asked.

            “Of course not” Mark said quickly.

            “ ‘Cause if it does, I’ll kill ya.” Hellboy said, and continued to chew on his mouthful of Dim Sum. Mark looked at him, then over to Liz, and then back to Hellboy while wearing a smirk on his face.

            “Red, given my history with fires, I’d be far more fearful of what she could to do me all by her lonesome.” Mark said warily. “May I please have one of your eyelashes, Liz?”

            “Fine” She said and sighed again. “But if you’re lying your ass is ashes.” She said.

            “Deal” Mark replied, smirking again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

            Mark and Liz sat astride his motorcycle in comfortable, silent darkness. Mark had turned to face Liz, and the spell would take care of the rest of the work. “What _are_ you thinking about?” Liz finally asked. “You look so far away.”

            Mark shifted somewhat uncomfortably. There was no question of Miss Sherman’s beauty and he had to keep his body from reacting to it. However, there was no way he was about to tell her that. He was used to women being either intimidated by or attracted to his size. Liz Sherman, after the better part of her lifetime spent hanging around the brawny Hellboy was decidedly neither, and it put Mark off somewhat.

            “Thinking about Jacqueline” He replied, as it was a half truth. “I wish she could be here to share this moment with.” He said, telling the truth about that. Liz smiled at him. “Maybe not what will come directly after this moment, but right now, this is nice.” Liz laughed a little at that.

            “You love her.” She said.

            “To the ends of the earth, Elizabeth... And beyond that.” He replied. Liz continued to smile.

            Thunder rumbled off in the distance. “That’s your work I assume?” She asked.

            “It is” Mark replied. “Now, to take advantage of the breeze that will come up.” Mark pulled a small parcel and a lighter out of his inner jacket pocket. The parcel was bound up with dried herbs, tissue paper and scented oils. She’d watched him make it the night prior in the hotel room and teased him about it looking very much like he was rolling a joint. Mark had laughed out loud at that, and then tied the thing off with a very small piece of red yarn. At the centre of the parcel was both one of hers and one of his eyelashes.

            As it burned down, it actually smelled rather pretty to Liz. Mark held it in his hand as long as possible and then blew it westward so it landed close to them on the dirt road. “I can’t believe that little thing is going to bring a wave of half breed goat men.” Liz said.

            “It should get their attention anyways. This being a school night, let’s just hope it’s a slow scene for horny teenagers, and they see us as the most attractive prospect.” Mark said. His sly smile was easily visible in the remaining moon light. Liz’s refined sense of gallows humour made her giggle girlishly at that.

            “No hanky panky!” Barked a voice, which came through the com unit attached to Liz’s belt. The source of the voice was hidden in the gloom beyond their range of vision. Liz rolled her eyes and hit a button on the device.

            “Shush H.B., we’re working here... Like professionals.” Liz said in reprimand.

            “Besides, I’m already taken.” Mark offered. Liz giggled again and turned down the volume of the com unit.

            “And as for Glen and Paul?” She asked.

            “They’ll come. I have no doubt of that. Glen has yet to pass up a chance to hand my ass to me.”

            The temperature started to drop and the rumbling thunder got closer and closer. As the air became more humid, a mist started to form in the low lying area where they were staked out. “Fog is not going to do us any favours.” Liz observed.

            “You folks wanted to kill two birds with one stone, and this is the only way I know of doing it. Fog is just naturally going to happen with a change in temperature like this’” Mark replied. His mind was turning to Glen and Paul. He thought he could feel their approach, but wasn’t sure as Paul still had an effect on his mind all these years later. He wasn’t quite sure how he would sever the hold Paul had over Glen. He was flying by the seat of his pants on that one. He knew Paul would be using magic to do it, and Mark’s psychic ability never made it necessary before now to learn about magical based mind control. The lack of time to research the topic had him more worried going into a confrontation than he’d ever been before.

            He tried to keep his breathing calm and refocus on his tempest. It required a sustained effort to put one on. It dawned on him that the coming rain might make both Liz and Glen’s power irrelevant. He had no doubt that they could still call up fire, but if everything was pretty much soaked by the time it got to that, it wouldn’t have much place to spread to.

            Mark also hoped that Liz had thought of something that might get through to Glen, because he was still clueless. He took a long, deep breath and forced himself to focus on his coming storm. To worry was to waste precious energy and power. In an unfocused instant, he could be dead and Glen stood the chance of being in Paul’s clutches until Paul either used Glen up, or had no more use for him and kicked him to the curb.

            More than anything, and which he would admit to no one, Mark just wanted his brother back. He hadn’t even told his beloved Jacqueline how much he longed to have an earthly connection to blood family. He felt that he’d been robbed of his family, and as soon as he’d found out his brother was alive he’d wanted to find some way to have Glen back in his life... Family... He almost had to laugh, himself with an unlimited source of power derived from the dead, and a vast knowledge of the occult, and yet subject to his perhaps infantile desire for family... However, in spare moments, he mused that it might be the thing that would save his soul. He wasn’t about to ask.

            Thunder rolling brought Mark back to the present moment. He thought he could detect the vague scent of a barnyard, but in rural Texas, that didn’t mean much. Though he was quite aware that if goat men had a scent, barnyard would be near the top of the list.

            The first drops of rain started to fall, and the wind blew both of their hair around. Mark looked skyward and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Easy does it” He murmured and then both Liz and he craned their necks towards the nearby river, their attention attracted the sound of running, no, rushing water.

            More rain fell and a huge crack of thunder just above them caused Liz to flinch. When she looked back, she found Mark holding her steady with a calm smile. “The thunder is the least of our worries, darlin’.” Mark said softly.

            “Darling?” Liz asked, using bravado to cover her momentary fear. But even after all her time spent with the Bureau, a loud bang was always going to get her attention.

            Then Mark looked past her shoulder and saw three figures walking through the mist towards them. Their silhouettes were human and Mark was somewhat relieved to not have to deal with everything at once.

            “If you want to get out of here, now would be the time.” Mark murmured to Liz.

            “Like hell. I’ll be fine.” She said. Mark smiled sweetly at her, leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and made to get off the motorcycle... He was paused mid-motion by a sound that didn’t belong in the storm coming in around them... And it sounded like a bleat... Or whatever the hell noise it was that goats made.

            “Did you hear that?” He asked Liz softly. She was already in the process of going for her com unit and bringing it to her mouth. She also put in the wireless ear piece as to keep their new visitors in the dark of any forming plans.

            “Marco” She said into it.

            “Polo” Hellboy’s voice was smooth and calm. “Already on it, Liz. Abe’s got his eye on Mark’s company.” Mark smirked at Liz and continued to swing his leg over the bike. Liz followed him, and realized that Mark was singing softly as he walked away from her.

            _“The wind can shake me, brothers forsake me. The rain can touch me, but can I touch the rain? So much to lose, so much to gain.”_ He sang quietly with a breathless, tuneless gusto as if he were far more concerned with the words than the melody. He made his way over to where the three men were emerging from the mist. The storm really did seem to be the least of his worries, even as the sound of roaring water got louder and finally crested their position on the river. Well, it was really more of a wide stream, but it would still be plenty enough to attract the likes of La Llorona or any offspring she may now have.

            Where they stood, the rain was really starting to come down, and Liz hung back from Mark a few steps to keep track of the scene. “The Lord Undertaker brings a woman to back him up?” Said the shortest of the men. However his rotund belly meant that he was by no means small. His voice was accented by the South, most likely Alabama, and would have gotten rather high pitched if he became agitated. Mark squinted into the darkness.

            “And you brought Mideon as extra protection? You don’t know what the _woman_ is capable of. What’s Mideon gonna do? Throw his pet eyeball at me? The glass jar might break. Better yet, will he just drool on me after the rain shows him as he truly is?” Mark seemed to be on the verge of a genuine belly laugh, which surprised Liz and only served to annoy the fat man. “Come on, Paul, you’re shitting me right? You wouldn’t think to get Farooq and Bradshaw or even Viscera for this? Hell, Mick would have been your best defense against me. He actually hates me.”

            “Who are those guys Mark just mentioned?” Abe’s voice crackled a bit through the ear piece.

            “I have no idea.” Liz replied softly, but the three men were so focused on Mark that they didn’t notice her speaking. The other two men were tall and broad shouldered. The one to the right of Paul might have even been larger than Mark himself... The frequent cracks of sheet lightening made it bright as daylight, and Liz was certain that he was wearing a dark mask over his face. The man to Paul’s left was stockier, and had an unpredictable way about him. He seemed like a tightly coiled spring, ready to pop up at any second. However, he also looked as if he might go off in several directions at once if he wasn’t paying attention. He looked around nervously, seeming to want to be anywhere but where he was. He cowered when he made himself look in Mark’s direction, clearly afraid of him. The masked man obviously didn’t have that problem.

            “Mideon is merely extra insurance.” The short man whom Mark had identified as Paul said. “Your brother will finish you off... That is unless you’ve suddenly become fire retardant.” Mark chuckled and rolled his eyes.

            “Okay, fine...” Mark said, moving back towards his bike, which was now getting thoroughly deluged with rain. He was well away from everyone when he thrust his arm into the air... And the world went white for a little while.

            Liz was knocked back and down to her hands and knees, gasping air with the scent of electrical activity sharp in her nose... Lightening. As best she could tell, Mark had just called lightening to his hand and sent it, from what she could see, in the direction of the three men.

            Paul lay twitching on the ground, and Mideon was immediately crouched over him, gently trying to rouse him. Glen was much in the same condition as Liz. He’d been stunned and sent flying some distance away, but seemed otherwise unhurt. Everyone was in something of a haze, even Mark, until a gunshot cracked through the sound of the wind, rain, and thunder and brought them all back to reality. Apparently Hellboy had made contact with the goat men, and they were not feeling friendly.

            Liz saw Abe running out of his former hiding spot to her, obviously coming to see if she was all right in her post lightening strike state. Mark was also approaching, but only touched her shoulder and kept on walking. He was headed for Glen, who was definitely just as big as his brother, if not a little larger.

            Like Liz, Glen was on his elbows and knees, trying to recover from the jolt to his system. As a seeming method of self defense, tongues of orange flame licked over his shirtless torso like a living armor; though just as it would start to build itself, it would be drowned out by the rain. Liz saw him and wondered just how many times she had looked something like that.

            “Hello Glen” Mark said, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. The masked man’s head moved a little. “Sorry about that, but I merely stunned Paul for a time so that we might finally speak directly.”

            Glen groaned and looked up at Mark. Liz, during a convenient flash of lightening, saw that the mask he wore had red and black slashes across it. Despite the mask covering his little brother’s face, Mark would have known the distinct eyes behind it anywhere. One was a rich brown, and the other was an icy pale blue, which had been another source of torment for Glen when he’d been young. There had been no medical reason for his oddly coloured eyes, and their mother had just explained it away as “God loves variety.”

            But from his size alone, no one would tease Glen now. That and the ability to burst into flame sure as hell made Mark step the fuck back and keep his distance. “What the fuck did you do?” Asked Glen’s rough voice, which was further muffled by the mask and the falling rain.

            “Called up a bit of lightening to get control of the situation.” Mark said.

            “You hit me with lightening? Where did you get that kind of nerve?”

            “No, I didn’t hit you. I hit Paul... The rest of us just got caught up in the aftermath. I already said I was sorry for it.” Mark said.

            Glen tried and failed to get up off of his elbows and knees. Mark didn’t move to help him because of the flames moving over Glen’s exposed skin. Glen looked at Mark again. Instead of acting out in a blind rage, he showed that he wanted to understand just as much as Mark himself did. “Why did you start the fire?” Glen asked.

            “You’re not going to believe me, but I didn’t do it.” Mark replied.

            “You’re right.” Glen said with another groan. “I don’t believe you.”

            “Because of what Paul has done to your mind, Glen. He did it to me too. Otherwise, I would have had him believing he was a seven year old girl for the rest of his days long ago. Long before he found you and this whole mess started.” Mark said. Glen’s whole body shuddered, and the fire coming up from his skin grew more intense. He finally wrenched himself upright on his knees, and then to his feet. The rain bounced off his mask, which apparently had been worked with magic to be resistant to fire, and steam rose off of him as the fire vaporized the rain.

            Despite having seen this before, it still left Mark in a bit of awe. He’d seen no shortage of strange happenings and human oddities in his relatively brief time on this planet. But he was sure that the fact it was his long lost little brother standing before him engulfed in flames which multiplied his reaction. “Glen, you have to talk to me. We have to figure out how to break the hold he has over both of us, and we have to do it together. It’s the only way we’ll make any kind of progress beyond you beating me into a pulp.” Mark said. There was a tinge of desperation in his voice, as it finally seemed that Glen was able to hear what Mark was saying, and not just reacting to his presence with blind hatred.

            “Maybe I like what I’m doing now. Have you thought of that, Mark?” Glen asked and the intensity of the fire grew again.

            “Not my little brother. You always cared too much for others.”

            “I’ve had a lot of time on my own to reassess my position on humanity, and it started with months upon months spent in a hospital bed, in a burn ward with only the stench of my own scorched flesh for company. It’s a smell that lingers, Mark. Even now, I swear I can smell it sometimes... And you were off living the good life. You got away Scot free with what you did.” Glen’s voice was low and menacing.

            “For fuck sakes! I did NOT start that fire Glen! It was a Tuesday during the summer. I’d been sent off to do chores and shopping for momma, like I had been every Tuesday since I was twelve. I wasn’t even there!”

            It was about that time when the ground started to shake beneath them. The rumble was definitely not thunder and became steadily more noticeable. There was a sudden spray of nearby gunfire and everyone had the good sense to get close to the ground.

            “Comin’ through!” Hellboy yelled and between flashes of lightening, Mark and the rest made out what was stampeding towards them. The goat men were here, pissed off, and the fight was coming towards them, fast... it was all too fast. There had to be hundreds of the damn things. There was no time to move anywhere, not to save Glen, or Liz and Abe, not even himself... And then Mark’s world went white for a time and he would have to be filled in on the details later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song quoted is Wherefore and the Why by Gordon Lightfoot... How he knows that song, I have no idea. Perhaps I'll write a story about it sometime.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interpretation of Hecate is based loosely on the Hellboy: Conqueror Worm series.

Chapter 8

 

            As for Liz, Abe, Glen and Mideon, they ended up swept up by what was at first an unknown force and were plunked down into the ditch beside the dirt road. The waist deep water in the ditch was at least fresh from the rain, and helped put a stop to the fire coming off of Glen’s skin as he’d been knocked out cold on impact with the ground. Abe and Liz secured Glen, making sure he wasn’t going to slip into the water. Abe steadied himself and crawled up the side of the ditch, with his pistol in hand. Liz followed, but kept on glancing back at Glen and Mideon for signs of trouble.

            What she saw when her head crested the edge of the ditch blew her mind a little. As Liz expected, Hellboy was there, slugging it out with angry, long fingered goat men. But the scene was framed by the biggest damn snake she’d ever seen. At an unnatural forty or so feet long, a formerly unknown primordial fear of snakes welled up in her. But then she saw the great arc of the lower half of its body raise itself up and easily flung away half a dozen of the goat men who’d been heading for Hellboy with large axes in their hands. Whatever the snake thing was, it was on their side... And that’s when she looked up to where Hellboy also had his eyes locked, which should have been the snake’s head.

            Where what should have been a snake’s head with bared fangs was instead the upper half of a man. Other Bureau members had hit the lights on the army transport, and both Liz and Abe could see that the human part of the snake creature had extensive tattoos covering his arms and wet red hair. The rain was coming down so hard now that it was hard to keep one’s eyes open long enough to get a clear shot, let alone see exact details.

            The snake-man version of what was a much changed Mark continued on, seemingly knowing quite well how to use his monstrous body. “Is that Mark?!” Abe shouted to Liz over the noise of the pelting rain and angry goat men.

            “I think so!” She shouted back.

            “Good, then I won’t shoot him.” Abe replied, and then took aim at a goat man and fired. The shot was true and struck the creature in the chest and it fell back. Then he fired again at hit another, and another. Liz quickly joined in with Abe; firing round after round and trying to avoid hitting Hellboy and the creature they assumed was Mark.

            They picked off individuals when it was safe, though Liz noticed several times when the snake creature howled in pain when one of the goat men’s axes got close enough and hacked into scaled skin. But after it did, the snake creature’s attack renewed with even more determined violence. The long body writhed, struck out with lightening quickness, and took out the goat men in entire waves. The pelting rain also made him slippery and the goat men couldn’t get a grip on him to try and climb up towards his head.

            All in all, he was a force of destruction in this state. When Hellboy had to reload his pistol, he took refuge behind the serpentine body, and Mark made the effort to shield him from attack. The flashes of lightening illuminated the wounds Mark had received, and the blood that oozed down his body. Yet he fought on, seeming not to notice, and managed to get small breathers when Hellboy came up pistol blazing.

            Liz had no concept of time as to how long it took for there only to be a dozen or so of the goat men left in the fray. Quite a few had run off upon seeing just how much damage was being inflicted upon their ranks, much to Liz and Abe’s personal relief.

            Hellboy, who’d been all business through it all, once more paused to reload, but Mark gently pushed him off to the side, and then in one sweeping motion, he effectively corralled the remaining goat men. Then he coiled his body, constricting them. One or two made the jump and managed to break free. However, they were met with Hellboy’s freshly reloaded pistol and soon moved no more. As for those entrapped in the serpentine coils, Liz saw a few flailing limbs and heard the cries of breathless desperation as they were crushed behind a wall of scales.

            The snake creature did not heed those cries or show mercy. He kept on constricting more tightly and it wasn’t long before all noise, save for the pelting rain, stopped. Mark’s activity kept the upper part of his body still enough and both Liz and Abe could concentrate on his face from a distance. It was most definitely Mark, though his blank expression caused Liz to think that Mark was out on his feet... Er, scales, and was merely reacting to this situation, not plotting it out in a calculated manner.

            When Mark’s body slowly started to relax, it was because of Hellboy talking to him softly, standing on Mark’s coils, his left hand touching scales, having holstered his gun already. “It’s over, man. We did it... You can stop now.” He said. Mark took a visible breath, and suddenly the rain started to let up.

            Liz and Abe heard a groan from behind them. The masked Glen was cresting the top of the ditch and Mideon was close behind him... Or at least Liz had to assume it was Mideon. What she saw definitely didn’t look human, and had leathery black skin. Its mouth hung open and knife like teeth were exposed. What held Liz’s attention were its eyes, which glowed as if there were hot coals set into the thing’s head. Liz and Abe took a step back and pulled closer to one another on instinct.

            “H.B!” Liz shouted, knowing she wanted him backing them up on this.

            “Gimme a sec, Liz.” He barked back. He was still trying to pull Mark back in to some kind of lucidity.

            “Now H.B! I think we got a demon here!” She shouted, and had her gun aimed firmly at its head. But then the blackened skinned creature looked up at her, and appeared to be confused by her distress. Despite his fearsome, glowing eyes, there was no menace in them. He looked down at himself and then over to Glen.

            “Where’s Uncle Paul?” The creature asked Glen, who didn’t respond.

            From Hellboy’s perspective, he saw Mark shake his head. Drips flew off his sopping wet hair. He was breathing incredibly deeply for the rapidness of his breathing. Hellboy could feel the rise and fall of his body even from his position well below Mark’s eye level. Mark’s eyes finally looked down at Hellboy, and then further at what had become of his body. He groaned deeply, which welled up from about where Hellboy stood on top of him.

            “Oh, fuck” Mark murmured. Then his entire body shuddered, and Hellboy had to fight to keep his balance where he stood. “Fucking Paul! Fucking Hecate!” He shouted into the diminishing, but still steady rain. “Not fucking again!”

            Hellboy felt Mark about to sag to the ground, either in a dead exhausted faint or out of pure frustration. “Not yet Mark! You still have your brother to deal with.” Mark’s eyes met Hellboy’s again. Hellboy realized where he’d seen this before, as Mark had just said it himself. “Hecate” He muttered, remembering his own violent encounter with the goddess when she’d taken a similar form to this. “You got some explaining to do, Mark.”

            “Later” Mark said and looked over to where Liz and Abe stood, aim still trained on Glen and Mideon. Glen disregarded Liz’s gun pointed at him, and started picking his way through the corpses of the goat men headed towards Mark. Glen’s eyes were wild behind the mask. “Get off me, Red.” Mark said to Hellboy, who jumped down to the ground, but kept his left hand on Mark’s side.

            “You gonna be okay?” Hellboy asked.

            “Do I _look_ okay?” Mark asked back.

            “Well, no, but that really doesn’t have much to do with you actually _being_ okay.” Hellboy reasoned. Mark paused a moment then his face broke into a small grin. He even let himself let out a low chuckle.

            “What did you do with Paul?” Glen demanded suddenly. The fire started licking in tongues up his skin again. Mark furrowed his brow, suddenly looking rather confused.

            “I don’t even know where the hell I’ve been for the last eight hours or so.” Mark said, and then looked over to Hellboy. “What the hell am I doing like this?”

            “We came here to face down Glen and take care of the goat men, remember?” Hellboy said. Mark closed his eyes for a second and then nodded.

            “Paul” Mark murmured, and opened his eyes. His eyes were immediately drawn to a place not far from where Liz, Abe, Glen, and Mideon had all landed in the ditch. His affinity for death flared up. The dead and dying were all around him, but there was one in particular that he was drawn to. He forced his massive body to move, remembering how to from the times this had happened before. He held what remained of his human body aloft, and the rest of him started to slither along the ground. He went to the side of the road, and the ditch there.

            Mark knew a soul was escaping a body, and he wanted its attention before it went to the other side. On his way, Mark passed dangerously close to Glen. He ignored the threat of being burned and swept both his brother and Mideon up in a coiled section of the snake body. He gritted his teeth as Glen’s fire started to scorch his scales and flesh but he was not deterred. Mideon howled in pain as his left arm and side got caught up in the motion and was also burned.

            “I’ll burn right through you!” Glen shouted and struggled.

            “And take Mideon with you? He’s never done anything to you. Be an adult for a minute.” Mark said. He lowered his body down, lying half way in the ditch was the mostly dead body of Paul. Mark took Paul’s arms and hauled him up into the area lit by the army transport. There was the mark of a cloven hoof on Paul’s neck. He would probably have several others over his body and under his clothes as well... To Mark, trampled to death seemed like a fitting end for him... But he had to get something out of Paul before he took his leave of this earth. The last thing he wanted was Paul trying to control him from beyond the grave.

            He started to pull power into his mind. The most basic fuel was the lingering energy of the dead goat men, and a more refined source being the goddess Hecate, who was very close by. Mark had specifically chosen the three way cross roads in the extreme case that he’d have to rely on her as his last back up. He looked around him, and the low howl of a dog could be heard somewhere close. “He gave me to you.” Mark said aloud, addressing the goddess. “Now I beg that you free my brother and me from him.”

            The hair on the back of Hellboy’s neck started to stand up. He wasn’t at all sure what was happening, but he had an educated guess based on what Mark had told him of the particulars of his abilities. Soon Liz, Abe, and the rest of the agents came to stand by him. Despite all the violence, none of their own had been seriously hurt. “Keep your guns ready.” Hellboy murmured to them. He didn’t want this to turn out badly, but would be prepared for it in case that happened.

            Mark turned to face the part of the road that formed the ‘T’ part of the crossroad, and all of a sudden the place sounded like it was overrun with barking and howling dogs, though none appeared. Mark was knocked back to the ground by an unseen force, and Glen and the demon Mideon were shaken free and tossed to the side. However, whatever it was that had hit Mark had also hit them, and they didn’t move.

            “What the hell was that?” One of their fellow agents asked. Hellboy had a good idea, but said nothing. He wanted to make sure that Mark was okay. He trudged over the mucky road, which was slick with blood, mud, and goat man carcasses. The whole place smelled almost as bad as the scene of the fire in Brooklyn.

            “Mark?” Hellboy called as softly as the noise of the rain would allow him to. “Mark, you okay buddy?” Mark’s massive body lay across the ditch, and Hellboy had to hop it in order to get close to Mark’s head. He knelt down beside him and saw that Mark’s eyes were open. The remaining human part of him was also shivering and trembling. Worried that it was shock, Hellboy reached out and touched Mark’s shoulder. “You gotta stay with me, man. No passing out on me now.” Hellboy said.

            “I understand now.” Mark’s hoarse voice whispered up at him.

            “Understand what?” Hellboy asked.

            And then Hellboy was quite unexpectedly tossed in a graceful arc, and sent some distance away, only to land in a rather ungraceful heap on the dirt road. Mark’s entire body had contorted, which had caused Hellboy to be flung away, and Mark had gone back to holding himself over Paul’s prone form. Which Hellboy observed as he hauled himself up from the ground with a quiet “Ow” as his only expression of pain.

            Mark reached down, and hauled the dying Paul up by his collar. There was a look of absolute hatred on Mark’s face as he started speaking to Paul. The voice that emerged from Mark’s mouth was not the one Hellboy recognized. It wasn’t even the version which Mark had used back in the alley in Brooklyn. There was an element to it that sounded female, but was as equally pissed off as Mark seemed to be. While he didn’t understand the words, he understood the sentiment. Mark shook Paul’s body, apparently demanding something of him. Mark then wound up and punched Paul in the eye, and then the jaw, and his words became understandable. “Fuck you, Paul! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Each exclamation was accentuated by the thrust of Mark’s fist connecting to Paul’s face. The last blow caused an audible snap, and Paul’s head fell back limp, his neck broken.

            Hellboy saw Paul’s lifeless eyes upside down as his head snapped back and stopped on his left shoulder. Paul’s mouth gaped open, and a green ball of light slowly drifted out of it. Mark snapped this up in his hand, and then placed his hand to his right eye. As he did so, he let go of Paul’s corpse, and let it fall away as carelessly as he had the over sized rat in Brooklyn. He shuddered and howled in pain as he pressed the ball of light into his eye, but didn’t let up on the pressure. He was left gasping for breath, and not paying attention to anything going on around him.

            The sound of a gun cocking did catch Mark’s attention and he turned his head. Hellboy had the pistol trained in the general direction of Mark’s chest. “Mark, if you’re still in there at all, you _will_ calm the hell down now or _I_ will do something I have no desire to do.” Hellboy said. Mark took another of those deep breaths, raised his arms and backed his torso away from Paul’s body.

            “I’m in here Red... I... I’m just sorting out a lot of shit in my head right now.” Mark’s voice was again his own, and with his focus elsewhere, his voice was heavy with his Southern drawl. His hand went to his brow, and he wiped the excess rain water from around his eyes. There were also a few tears mixed in, but he had no desire to let anybody else see them. He was sorting through forty odd years worth of Paul’s memories, ignoring the ones that didn’t matter and committing to his own memory those that did. He would have a lot of cleaning up to do now that Paul was dead.

            “Dead... He’s really dead.” Mark muttered to himself. He looked over to Hellboy. “I’ve... I gotta stay here the rest of the night, Red. There are some ceremonies I’ve got to complete, thanking the goddess and the like.” He said.

            “You want to _thank_ Hecate for doing this do you?” Hellboy asked, finally relaxing enough to contemplate lighting a cigar.

            “This is better than if all of us had ended up trampled under goat man hooves.” Mark offered. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

            “Eh, Liz could have toasted ‘em at any time. Only reason she didn’t was she probably would have taken you out in the process.” Hellboy said.

            “Remind me to thank her formally for her restraint.” Mark said, and then trained his eyes to Mideon and his brother.

            “So, when do you figure they’ll wake up?” Hellboy asked.

            “When I tell them to... To free all of us from Paul’s hold, I had to take that control for myself. It was simply the most time efficient thing to do before Paul died. Now I’ve got to figure out what to do with the rest of them.” Mark mused.

            “Rest of who?” Liz asked. She and the other agents had regrouped and had now gotten close.

            “Paul had dozens who were at his beck and call. I don’t need them, but some don’t deserve to be set free and others, like Mideon here, don’t _want_ to be set free.” Mark said.

            “Yeah, about him, what IS he?” She asked.

            “Ever see that movie Gremlins?” Mark asked, his voice becoming as normal as it had been before the evening’s events.

            “Mideon’s a gremlin?” Hellboy asked, looking over the unconscious figure.

            “No, but you remember how the cute little fluffy and totally harmless creature turns into a leathery skinned, slimy destruction machine? Well remove the blind want for mayhem and you’ve got Mideon... Sort of.” Mark explained.

            “Oh... Eww” Liz said softly.

            “He’s actually rather sweet. Not a streak of malice in him... Unless you ask him to do something violent, and then it’s best to just stay out of his way. Anyway, Mideon needs structure or he’ll go off on a boredom induced tear. So he likes having someone provide him with something to do... And you shouldn’t feed him after midnight either.”

            “That’s what makes him go all gross looking?” Hellboy asked.

            “No, it’s just really bad for the metabolism... And he’ll get nightmares.” Mark said wryly. Hellboy chuckled, satisfied that Mark was in control again and holstered his weapon. He replaced it with a cigar, and held it out for Liz to light, which she obliged him with.

            “Okay, what’s the plan now?” Abe asked.

            “I guess we corral these two and then you guys head back to get some sleep. I’m going to hang here with Mark and a bunch of extra ammo in case any stragglers emerge. Other than that, job’s done I’d say.” Hellboy said, and puffed away on the cigar. Mark moved in close to Mideon and Glen again.

            “Wake up” He said softly. Instantly they came around. “Go with the nice lady and do what she says. Address her as Miss Sherman.” Mark said. Mideon nodded eagerly and was quickly to his feet. Glen was slower to react. He got to his feet, but his eyes spoke the volumes of rage he was feeling.

            “Set _us_ free, Mark? More like set you free, you lying fuck.” Glen growled. “I. Hate. You.” He declared slowly and deliberately. Mark’s body rose up a bit, his anger rising.

            “That may be Glen, but tonight you will stop arguing with me and just do what I fucking tell you to do. I will set you free or this imprisonment. I swear to you that I will... But I won’t do it a second before its safe to. Now go with Miss Sherman, do what she says and I will see you in the morning.” Mark ordered. Glen still looked defiant; his eyes were wild, but he seemed physically blocked from reacting to his older brother. He fell into step behind Mideon, who was being directed to the back of the army transport.

            Mark turned to Liz. “Please Liz, make sure no one tries to remove that mask. It’s the physical manifestation of the power that Paul... I have over him. To remove it without the proper release spells done might turn his mind into baby food.” He said.

            “Sure Mark” She agreed and nodded. He reached out for her hands and she responded by offering them to him. Mark grasped them gently, and then bent down and kissed her forehead as he had earlier that night.

            “Thank you” He said, but did so in such a way that every agent of the Bureau within earshot knew he was thanking them all. “Thank you so much.” He whispered into her ear, and Liz knew that he was thanking her personally for her help in handling Glen.

            “I’ll see you in the morning, Mark.” She said, and he let her go. It wasn’t long before Mark and Hellboy were left alone, in the dark, with a cooler full of provisions, a few flashlights, and a blanket of stars as the clouds overhead cleared away.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

            Mark set about thanking Hecate for her benevolence. He went up to where the two roads met and left her an offering of food from the provisions, along with a small candle and burning incense pulled from the saddlebags of his motorcycle. It had stood the insanity well, and only had a few minor scratches and dampness to show. He said prayers over the offering and lay prostrate on the road for a long time. Hellboy used the time to reload, eat, and start to clear the road of the goat man bodies. He was glad that everyone had been shooting to kill and that there were none left half alive for him to deal with.

            Mark finally rejoined him, coiling his changed body up into a somewhat confined space. When Hellboy politely asked if he could “take a seat”, Mark merely rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

            “Be my guest, but avoid the burn. That hurts like a bitch.” Mark replied dryly. Hellboy more leaned against Mark than sat down, waiting in silence while puffing away on his cigar. He only broke the silence after a long time gathering his thoughts.

            “So, I get the feeling that this isn’t the first time you’ve gone naga.” Hellboy said mildly. Mark had to chuckle a little.

            “No, the first time was about seventy-two hours after the mortuary burned down.” Mark said. “Paul and I were in Mexico, holed up there in a motel room with broken air conditioning. He was plenty strong for being such a fat fucker from shifting bodies around the funeral home. He held me down and _gave_ me to Hecate in exchange for her power. Thing is, it didn’t turn out the way he wanted. Hecate gave her power to me, for me only to use, not for him to channel through me. So I guess she sees me as something of an investment now. At least that’s the best I can figure. Anyways, anytime I’m really boned in a fight, this happens to help me get out of it in one piece... Each time the snake body gets larger and more of a hassle to get rid of.” Mark explained. “This ‘proclaims to all’ my connection to her... Or that she owns my ass... Whatever... I’ve never been able to determine which it is.”

            “How _do_ you get rid of it?” Hellboy asked.

            “A month, but more likely two now, of carefully starving myself, and the tail will rot off. Eventually, I should be able to pull my legs out of it and walk away... Needless to say, it’s quite disgusting.” Mark said.

            “Yeah, no shit” Hellboy agreed. “You’ll be coming back to the Bureau with us, you know that right? We’ll help you the best we can.”

            “I do know that, and thank you... If anything it gives me a safe place to be while I recover from this. Last time I spent about six weeks in the attic of Jacqueline’s home in New Orleans.” Mark said.

            “Seriously man, you gonna be okay?”

            “Hopefully in time... I’m just really pissed off at the fact that I’ve become everything Paul is in order to rid myself of him.” Mark said and sighed.

            “Yeah, but now you can go about setting things right for all the people he’s screwed over.” Hellboy offered.

            “ ‘Cause ya know, ya gotta have goals.” Mark said sarcastically.

            “Father told me that you wanted to enrage Paul and to obliterate his ‘middleman’ gimmick, right? Well, wouldn’t the ultimate ‘fuck you’ be erasing everything he’s ever done while there’s nothing he can do about it?” Hellboy asked.

            “I suppose so” Mark said softly. “He murdered them, Red.”

            “What?” Hellboy asked.

            “Paul, he set that fucking fire in the woodshop in order to make off with me so he could make a fortune. The reason for it was the bodies of the illegal immigrants in the basement. My father simply didn’t know they weren’t legal... Paul was forging their documents, and he was about to get caught, he knew the feds were on to him and had to make a run for it... He also knew to start the fire small as I would be gone from the house for awhile, and it would give him time to form his escape plan. He killed them, and then took me and later Glen to be his personal slaves...” Mark said, and brought his hand to his eyes.

            “I absorbed all his memories when I took his power and control... Fucking asshole... That fucking asshole...” Mark said. His voice was as full of emotion as Hellboy had ever heard it. Gone was any sense of anger or even gallows humour. All that remained to be heard was Mark’s still raw melancholy for his lost family and life. Hellboy didn’t look up at Mark’s face because he knew his eyes would be wet, and that Mark wouldn’t want to see him fighting off tears. Hellboy tossed his cigar, and patted the scales closest to his left hand. He had absolutely nothing to say to Mark. All he could do was remind his friend that he was there for him, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

            “Try and get some sleep, Mark. I’ll keep an eye out.” Hellboy said quietly.

            “Thanks, Red.” Mark said, and rested his human half on top of his own coiled snake half near to where Hellboy was leaning on him. He closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes.

            Mark thought he heard someone crying in his dream. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for that to happen given the life he led. But it hadn’t happened for a very long time and Mark knew enough to pay attention to it. The more he paid attention to the increasingly desperate sobs, the more he realized that they were no dream and that he was being woken up.

            He opened his eyes and raised his head, which felt like lifting lead on both counts. He immediately remembered where he was and what had happened with no moment of confusion. Hellboy had moved off of him and was standing close to the river in the predawn light. He wasn’t alone either. Beside him was the ghostly figure of the most beautiful woman Mark had ever seen.

            “My children” She whispered between sobs. “My children” Hellboy looked miserable and was trying in vain to comfort her.

            “I’m sorry” He said. “I had to... But I’m so sorry.” Hellboy murmured. He tried to reach out to her, but she would not be held, and was intangible to him. Her sobbing only got louder.

            Mark started to move towards them on instinct. If there was anything both he and Hecate knew, it was ghosts, and this was apparently that of La Lloronoa. “Madre” He said softly. She turned to him with a cold glare despite her free flowing tears.

            “Do not call me that. I have no children anymore. I am no one’s mother.” She retorted.

            “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that... You are an ‘all mother’ now. You are every mother who’s ever lost a child... But these children, they were going to harm others. They were going to cause a lot of pain to families by taking away their children... And if there is one thing I think you wouldn’t wish on any mother, it’s the pain of losing a child.” Mark said, his words not completely his own. Hecate was near and her rare compassionate side had risen up.

            “You know nothing of that pain!” She accused shrilly, but Mark was not taken aback.

            “You’re right, I have no concept of what it is to lose a child. But I do know what its like to have a family murdered. I know what its like to lose my mother violently. Most of the time, the only thing I want from this earth is one more day with her, with my family...” He said. Then the formidable La Llorona’s expression changed. She softened towards him and Hellboy.

            “Please believe my friend when he apologizes. The fight was for our survival. The last thing we wanted to do was cause you more grief.” Mark said. The ghostly shape suddenly became opaque and she reached out for Hellboy’s hand and took it in her own. He was at first surprised by this, but his usually gruff face remained tender.

            “I’m sorry.” Hellboy said again. His voice was whisper quiet.

            “I know” She replied. Mark had heard the tone of voice she used before, but years ago, usually after apologizing to his own mother after screwing up. She spoke with motherly compassion and understanding, and in those two small words gave comfort and healing.

            Still though, she cried freely, her own pain close to the surface which most likely would never let her rest in peace. “Madre, I would like for you to let me try and find you a new husband.” Mark said suddenly. “Someone who is kind and would never leave or betray you.”

            “How is that possible?” She asked.

            “I’d say that taking one glance at any of us would let one conclude that anything is possible.” Hellboy chipped in, and Mark had to suppress his laughter to a smirk for the sake of propriety. But then something wonderful happened. La Llorona laughed through her tears, if only for a moment.

            Her slight smile did last a little longer though, and both Mark and Hellboy were left in silent awe of her beauty. She let go of Hellboy’s hand and then walked beyond them a little ways. “I have to say goodbye to them.” She said. But her attention was already gone from the unlikely pair she’d left, so they couldn’t be sure if she was speaking to them or herself.

            She walked away from them for a few more steps and then vanished, but the prints of slender, bare, female feet were clearly being made in the still wet dirt road. The rising sun gave just enough light to see them. She proceeded up and then back down the road, her tears were still audible, but quite and soft. As she walked, vines, grass and most noticeably, flowers grew up and covered the bodies of the deceased goat men. The smell of blood faded, and was replaced by that of damp earth and things growing... Eventually the forming footprints faded into nothingness. Only when she was gone, and Hellboy and Mark stood between two rows of flowers did either of them dare to speak. “I still feel like a sack of shit though.” Hellboy said.

            “Ugh, so do I. We might as well be clubbing baby seals for all the good an apology does.” Mark replied. Hellboy had to chuckle at that. He then sighed and looked around.

            “Look at how green everything got over night.” He said.

            “Yeah, a bit of rain can make the whole desert bloom.” Mark replied, and then furrowed his brow. “How fucked up is it that we’re talking about the weather?”

            “Well, it was an unnatural storm, right? Either that or we’ve just run out of things to say to one another.” Hellboy mused. Mark laughed and they shut up and watched the sun rise.

            ‘Transport’ arrived about an hour after dawn. Liz climbed down from the army truck and a very obedient looking Mideon and Glen got down out of the back of it. Mideon once more looked human, having dried out overnight and Glen was still masked. Mark immediately noticed how close Glen stuck to Liz... Maybe she’d already started to speak with him. He wasn’t about to intrude on that developing relationship. Glen needed to trust somebody, and Mark figured that Liz Sherman was the most likely candidate.

            Glen looked visibly uncomfortable strictly through his stiff body language when Liz noticed and then called for some kind of medical attention to be paid to Mark. Glen could plainly see in the morning light the holes hacked into Mark’s flesh by axes, but the most glaring injury was the burn on the last third of the snake part of his body. Glen had been careful to damage Mideon as little as possible, but had meant to hurt Mark and hurt him badly. A five foot wide stretch of his scaled skin was gone, and bare muscle and fat were exposed. Every few moments Mark would move that part of his body to get a moment’s relief from the flies that had gathered. Mercifully he was now large enough to be able to have his head avoid it.

            The B.P.R.D. medics came in, and quickly agreed that the best way to handle the situation was a new kind of bandage that the in house docs and researchers had been developing. “Why the hell are they putting plastic wrap on me?” Mark had asked. He was overtired and now the surreal position he was in was making everything hilarious in his head. When this transformation had occurred before, he’d been hidden away from sight as soon as possible, and now people were just walking around him as if he were a normal obstruction in the road.

            The ‘bandage’, despite looking like plastic food wrap was a self adhering thing and would mimic the skin that should be there, allowing the flesh to heal while protecting against infection. Mark wasn’t even sure if he could get an infection while in this form, but he wasn’t about to argue that point. He was just too tired to do so.

            He laughed out loud when he was loaded onto the army transport alone, all coiled up, and then transferred onto a the tractor trailer of a big rig at the point where the dirt road finally met pavement again. “You were the one who said you didn’t like flying.” Hellboy quipped when he climbed into the trailer. Mark turned to look at him slowly, feeling like he hadn’t slept for a week.

            To his surprise both Hellboy and Abe remained when the doors of the trailer were closed. “And here I thought I was going to be alone on this.” Mark said dryly.

            “Well, to be perfectly honest with you, the higher ups insisted on this... The power you’ve displayed in the last twenty-four hours has got them intrigued and a bit spooked. Technically, you’re under armed guard.” Abe admitted. Hellboy was looking anywhere but in Mark’s eye at that moment. Mark took another one of those long breaths and nodded his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he expected this kind of reaction.

            After learning that Glen, Mideon, and his bike (in that order) all had secure transport back to Jersey, Mark slept fitfully for most of the trip. Between calling up his tempest, his physical transformation and bonding with Hecate, and taking Paul’s control of so many for his own, he was well and truly exhausted. Still the sleep he had was disturbed, and he had a hard time staying asleep, crediting bad dreams and the road noise as the source. Between his short naps, he gently refused everything but water when it came to nourishment.

            Abe and Hellboy were spending the time writing reports on a laptop with Hellboy dictating into a head set, as typing with only his left hand was far too slow and frustrating to him. His stone right hand was all kinds of useful in a fight, but was rendered irrelevant in the face of paperwork.

            Hellboy and Abe asked Mark questions to clarify certain points when he was awake, and didn’t give up on getting him to try and eat something. He was courteous and explained a little more about Mideon, who was just one of many of Paul’s servants, and about his prior encounters with Glen. All had been violent, and ended with Mark in a lot of pain. He dropped a few hints about his early time spent with Paul, during which Paul was building an empire of those dependent on his services. But for the most part, Mark was vague and obtuse about this period. He would speak much more readily on his childhood before the fire than his time with Paul, leading Hellboy to assume that there was some kind of considerable abuse going on. But that was not his ‘department’, and Mark clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so he left it to be the fodder of the shrinks back at the Bureau.

            For all his time spent fighting, Hellboy couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up under those conditions. He had a few fuzzy memories of the experiments the government had put him through as an infant, but even the idea that Mark’s father had beat him was beyond him. Professor Bruttenholm had never been anything but downright gentle with Hellboy, even when Hellboy got himself into all kinds of extraordinary mischief while running around military bases as a kid. He couldn’t even fathom what Paul did to Mark that was so bad that Mark would no longer speak of it.

            That part he put in the report, as he knew he had to, but typed that up slowly and quietly while Mark slept close by. He didn’t want Mark to get defensive about it, especially in such a confined space. But Mark never woke while Hellboy sat there, typing with his left hand. Abe eyed him, but didn’t ask him anything, knowing Hellboy always had his reasons for doing something, even if it was only his rarely displayed compassion for others.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short... Once again, this is a loose interpretation of the Taker/Kane story... Just go with me on it. And for WWE fans, I'm tossing in a couple more of the Ministry characters, but they will be fairly brief appearances.

Chapter 10

 

            Once safely back in Jersey, Mark was carefully ushered into one of the larger and very secure ‘observation’ rooms. The room was still far too small for him, but he managed to get himself inside of it without complaint.

            Glen was placed in the same fireproof room that had been created for Liz, and was almost directly across from Mark. As requested, the mask had been left on him. There was a closed circuit television system watching them both silently from an upper corner of each room. Mark was given a monitor in his room to watch Glen when he was being ‘interviewed’ at his request. “You either give me a monitor, I watch him with my brain. Save me the energy would you?” Mark had reasoned. Hellboy decided then and there that arguing with a psychic as intelligent as Mark about privacy issues was impossible and pointless.

            Mark, Hellboy, and Professor Bruttenholm hunkered down and made for a tight fit in the room to watch these meetings between Liz and Glen. Mark sat silently and entranced through them, trying to gain Glen’s perspective. He listened as Glen explained that he was simply working as nightshift security when he was approached by Paul, and had as little to do with other people as possible. He’d grown to distrust others as a general rule, because without fail other people would end up leaving him, one way or another.

            Glenn didn’t want to sit and talk to this woman, but he couldn’t react to his displeasure without Mark’s say so. The fucker. And still the woman kept on coming back, and Glen was forced to reveal more and more.

            “Mind if I smoke?” Liz asked Glen on her third day of coming to his room. Glen sat huddled in a corner of the room. A muffled sound came out from under the mask, which Liz had to assume was a kind of laughter.

            “Now there’s irony for you.” Glen muttered.

            “I’ll take that as the okay to go ahead.” Liz said dryly and lit her cigarette. “You’re aware this conversation is being recorded, correct?”

            “Yes, and I know where I am... And I know that I haven’t been read my rights, so none of it is admissible in court.” Glen said.

            “Who said anything about criminal charges?” Liz asked and exhaled a puff of smoke.

            “I’ve been interviewed by plenty of people trying to get into my head in my younger days. I know how it goes.” Glen retorted.

            “I’m not trying to figure you out, Glen. I’m here to facilitate you figuring yourself out.” Liz said gently. “I don’t believe I can make you better, or stop hating yourself and what you’re capable of... However, I do know that it’s possible for you to live with all of that, because I learned to do it myself. It is possible.” She took another puff and continued. “I’ll even be perfectly honest and admit that I still struggle with it sometimes, but one can live with it.”

            “When did you first find out?” Glen asked quietly, looking past her to the corner of the room.

            “Neighbourhood kid teasing me... Burned down the whole block, including my house and took my family with it.” Liz said while exhaling and flicking the ash of her cigarette into the ashtray she’d brought with her. “You?”

            “Lying in the burn ward about a month after I woke up... which would have been about six weeks after the house burned down... I was just so angry and confused and caught up in my memories that it happened. I didn’t take out much more than the mattress I was strapped to though... The hospital staff never did find an explanation. I fucked up a bunch of skin grafts in the process too.” Glen said. He wasn’t quite sure why he was talking, other than Mark had told him to do what the lady said... If he had to come up with a reason why he would choose to tell her on his own, it would have to be that Miss Sherman already knew so much about him and he’d never have to explain that to her because she was the same as he was.

            “Tell me about Mark if you can.” She said.

            “Fuck Mark.” Glen barked suddenly and looked Liz straight in the eye. “He’s got me tied up like a dog right now. So tight I wouldn’t be able to shit if he told me not to.”

            “He says it’s for all our safety, including yours. And you have to face it, you haven’t given him any reason to trust you... Besides, he’s caught up in his own shit right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

            “Do you think I care that he bit off more than he could chew and got caught with the consequences? Think again. He should have learned to handle himself a long time ago and apparently hasn’t.” Glen said. His voice was as clear as it could be; even though it had a permanent roughness that Liz had to assume was leftover from his childhood injuries.

            “Couldn’t you accuse yourself of the same thing?” Liz asked mildly. “You’re refusing to open your mind to there being another reality of how that night went. Besides, consider that Paul had recently been dropped by Mark when he found you, and had every reason in the world to lie to you to manipulate you into wanting to hurt Mark.” Liz took another drag on her smoke, and Glen was silent for a long time afterwards.

            “I... I don’t know.” Glen spoke softly when he finally did. “It’s like part of me is screaming inside my head that “MARK DID IT!” and I can’t shut it up or ignore it.”

            “That might be part of the spell Paul worked over you talking.” Liz offered. There was another period of silence. “Tell me about the fire in the Bronx.” She said in an effort to get him speaking again. Glen took a long, deep breath, much in the same manner that Mark did.

            “Paul had me fucking riled that night. I may have even been frothing at the mouth under this mask, I don’t know... I don’t know that you’ve ever had a need for vengeance Miss Sherman, but this was something I felt I was living my life for. I was finally getting my little taste of revenge as we went along... And when Paul set me to starting that fire, I had no thought other than hurting Mark in any way possible. I simply didn’t care about anything else. Paul didn’t so much exaggerate, as continually reiterate the importance of any of the places I destroyed... I didn’t mean to take out the entire block. I got carried away. I do so easily, as I’m sure you do as well. And I _know_ that people died... But I have yet to determine whether I care about that or not, or if I am remorseful for it.” Glen said dutifully, doing what Miss Sherman asked, as Mark had ordered him to.

            The whole length of Mark’s body shifted uncomfortably upon hearing this. He looked vaguely ill and upset at the entire situation. He considered perhaps Glen had truly lost the gentle nature Mark remembered him having. It had been a damn long time since the fire, and life might have gotten to him and made him into a remorseless killer. His elbow nudged one of the various old books lying around the room. The pages were open to spells about mind control and releasing someone affected by it. He looked long and hard at the book and sighed audibly. Hellboy noticed this and spoke up.

            “So, if you think you’ve got it, why not release him like you’ve been going on about wanting to?” He asked.

            “I guess I like to think I’m sort of forcing him through some kind of therapy or catharsis. If he talks about it to someone now, then hopefully he’ll realize that it will be okay to continue to do so after I’ve released him... I’m just praying that he doesn’t feel too violated by it.” Mark replied. Once again he shifted his body uncomfortably because of the confined space.

            “You have to know that there is a very good chance of exactly that happening.” Hellboy said.

            “I do... But after all he’s been through we’re probably going to have to force him to trust people. If he comes out of all of this knowing that he can trust Liz; that might make him a little more open to trusting others if not me.” Mark reasoned and Hellboy nodded.

            “And how are _you_ feeling, Mark?” Bruttenholm asked, assuming that no one had had the time to ask him in the last while. Most everyone had just been amazed at what he’d turned into and his physical, not mental state.

            “Cramped, hungry, agitated, frustrated...” Mark answered honestly. “Perhaps even plagued somewhat... Normally the tail starts to turn rather ashen looking after a few days of not eating, and starts to consume itself to survive. I’m just hoping that absorbing the power from a bunch of perennially lusting goat men has given me an extra kick and soon this will all start wearing off.” Mark said, and looked over the snake half of him with mild distain on his face. He sighed again loudly. “I just want to be able to go home, and hopefully take Glen with me.” He concluded.

            “Hate to play devil’s advocate, but that might not be for awhile yet.” Hellboy said. Mark nodded, because he did understand why that was the case.

            “I know... I just would prefer to be in New Orleans drinking an enormous bottle of witch-worked red wine with Jacqueline.” Mark mused. “While standing on her porch, not crawling on my belly, and we could make fun of passerby tourists who are looking for the ‘spooky’ part of New Orleans.”

            “You’re making me jealous.” Hellboy said with a smirk.

            “I’m making myself jealous.” Mark replied wryly. “Because I’ve had it that good.”

            “Well, when this is all done and over with, I’d say you deserve it.”

            “Thanks, man.” Mark said quietly.

            Mark was left alone soon after that for the day. Hellboy was trying to keep Mark company as often as possible, but had other things that needed attending, such as his perpetual mountain of backed up paperwork that needed to be done. He was also in the midst of sifting through various reports of several different weird happenings world wide, and helping his superiors in the Bureau with deciding which would need priority treatment.

            So the next day, he was finally getting some ‘real’ work done when he was called into Professor Bruttenholm’s office for something ‘urgent’. Urgent meant two football player sized men standing in the office, outright demanding to see “The Undertaker”. Trevor Bruttenholm, in his gentle manner at least had the men calmed down by the time Hellboy got there to avoid any violent conflict. Still Bruttenholm was relieved when Hellboy did walk through the door as extra insurance in case these men became more demanding than he could handle alone. They gave Hellboy a long look when he came in, and Bruttenhom immediately noticed that the taller and leaner of the two, who’d been doing the talking, immediately became much more polite towards their aging host.

            “Who the hell are these clowns?” Hellboy asked Professor Bruttenholm and deliberately ignored their ‘guests’. “And why do they want to see Mark?”

            “This is Mr. Bradshaw” Bruttenholm said, pointing out the taller man. “and I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name yet, Mister?” His eyes resting on the thicker set black man.

            “Farooq” He grumbled, responding to Bruttenholm’s polite manner but clearly not wanting to. “Just Farooq.”

            “And this is Farooq.” Bruttenholm said and gave Hellboy a boyish smirk. Hellboy returned it. He’d seen this many times over. His father was the best he’d ever seen at killing someone with kindness. “Now, I know they want to see our guest, but they haven’t illuminated me as to why.” He turned back to ‘Bradshaw’ and spoke again. “Mark has become a friend to many of us around here, so naturally we value him and have become a bit protective of him. So, if you can tell us why you need to see him so badly, perhaps we can arrange something, gentlemen.” Bradshaw took a deep breath, and was clearly unused to such polite company.

            “Sir,” He started, though it was a strained use of the word. It seemed as if he was in a great hurry and was only attempting to keep his patience because he figured it might get him where he needed to be more quickly. “Mark, as you’ve taken to calling him, has become a very important man to many people over the last little while. I mean, we’ve only heard rumours, but the rumours are so out there that they have to be true... Paul is dead, and the Undertaker killed him, and that means ‘Taker’s got some explaining to do and some responsibilities to assume.”

            “Mark didn’t kill him.” Hellboy defended quickly, a lot of anger simmered in his tone. Bradshaw gave him another one of those long looks. “He just finished what a Texas goat man started.”

            “So Paul is dead.” Bradshaw concluded. Farooq let out an audible breath.

            “Fuck do we do now, man?” Farooq asked Bradshaw quietly.

            “It means that there is a new Lord of the Manor, so to speak, and that we have to have an audience with him.” Bradshaw replied, and looked at Bruttenholm again.

            “But Paul’s gone... The hell are we supposed to do without him?” Farooq insisted.

            “Ya know what, fuck Paul. Taker was always the ‘power’ behind him anyways. Let the Lord assume his proper place.” Bradshaw said, but kept his gaze on Bruttenholm.

            Hellboy only partially understood this conversation. While Mark had told him that there were others under Paul’s control, he hadn’t realized that they were such a tight knit bunch, let alone there being a structure and order to them. “Kane and Mideon, did they survive?” Bradshaw asked carefully.

            “Who the hell is Kane?” Hellboy asked.

            “I believe they are referring to Glen,” Bruttenholm said. “Kane was the maiden name of Glen and Mark’s mother after all.” Hellboy snorted and rolled his eyes.

            “Father, answer me a question, why do all societies associated with the occult and dark arts have to rename all those associated with it by using exotic and vaguely dangerous sounding names?” Hellboy asked.

            “A sign of spiritual conversion and devotion is usually the idea behind most name changes of this nature.” Bruttenholm explained.

            “Sounds like an excuse some Goth teenager would use... Or a hippie commune.” Hellboy muttered and smirked to himself. Bradshaw’s brow furrowed.

            “You know nothing of what we do, so I suggest you learn something about it before you mock it.” He said, looking extremely pissed off and only keeping his temper just barely.

            “What don’t I know? I’ve beaten down uglies and seen things that’d make you shit your pants.” Hellboy barked back.

            “Son, please refrain from starting a brawl in my office.” Bruttenholm interrupted. Hellboy simmered, but only a little bit. “To answer your question Mr. Bradshaw, Glen and Mideon did survive, are in excellent health, and are also being held here in safety.”

            “Kane and ‘Taker made nice yet?” Bradshaw asked.

            “Both are resolving certain issues before a reconciliation will be possible.” Bruttenholm said diplomatically. Hellboy kept his mouth shut and instead chose to glare and Bradshaw and Farooq menacingly. While apparently intimidated by him, they did not back off from their purpose. Hellboy had to credit them that at least.

            “You have to let us see him, sir... There is much at stake which he needs to attend to, no matter how protective you’ve become over him.” Bradshaw said.

            “Mark gets final say.” Hellboy grumbled, and Bradshaw nodded. He couldn’t argue with that.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

            “You got folks here to see you.” Hellboy said, his head poking through the door way.

            “Who the hell would come here to see me? Jacqueline doesn’t even know where I am.” Mark said.

            “Two guys, built like foot ball players. They said if we called them ‘Farooq’ and ‘Bradshaw’ that would be enough.” Hellboy explained. Mark’s face grew serious and he nodded. “Though just _how_ they found you is beyond me, and they’re not telling. Something about trade secrets, which I kind of think is a jerkoff move on their part considering how open you’ve been with us. But anyways, they’re serious about seeing you.” Mark smirked at that.

            “Yes, I suppose I should see them. They’re going to want orders, not that I really have any to give them.” Mark mused to himself and started to arrange his serpentine coils into some semblance of order to make room for other people coming into the cell.

            “Father’s here too... He would like to observe this.” Hellboy said quietly.

            “You either stand in or watch it on video. I understand my situation, and it’s whatever you would prefer.” Mark replied quietly. Hellboy nodded, opened the door, and everyone filed into the room.

            “Hol-lee shit Taker! They got you in a damn terrarium! How are you _not_ going crazy in here?” Bradshaw crowed as he stepped into the room.

            “Who said I was ever sane, Bradshaw?” Mark asked quietly.

            “You’d better be sane. You’re king of the mountain now, just like you should be.” Bradshaw said as he looked up at Mark. His human half was looming high on his own scales in the far corner of the room. His head was touching the ceiling, and he was resting his back against the wall.

            “I am decidedly not, John. At the present I am technically a prisoner until it can be determined whether I present a threat to the general populace.” Mark replied.

            “My entire pasty ass this place could hold you if you had a mind to get out.” Bradshaw said with a snort. “The living embodiment of Hecate is just _so_ powerless. Only thing holding you back is your immaturity. You got screwed by Paul, but we all have... As it stands, you are the most fit to assume Paul’s responsibilities. You have obligations now... my lord.” Bradshaw punctuated his statement by dropping to his knees, his head bowed. Farooq followed suit. Bradshaw looked up within a few seconds, wearing a wry grin on his face.

            “So stop being such a fucking pussy and do what needs to be done... my lord.” Bradshaw emphasized the word lord. Mark took a long look at him and Farooq and Hellboy could clearly see that he was figuring out how to take this treatment.

            “You’d call _me_ lord?” Mark asked.

            “Who else should we call lord? Farooq and I were always the money end of things. Paul was the one who knew the magic end of it and where to get his power from. Mick and Viscera were enforcers and protection... And Mideon, well Mideon is just Mideon. Thanks to Paul’s mind control, we know no other life, my lord. What life would you have us try to assume? Mideon would not do well in this world if we tried to make him work a straight job.” Bradshaw said as a joke, but Mark knew the truth of it. He also knew that it wasn’t just Mideon who would be adversely affected by him failing to take Paul’s place. “So, you assume title over Paul’s holdings, or we all wander lost, my lord.”

            “And the status of Paul’s holdings?” Mark asked quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling.

            “What wasn’t necessary to business in any way has been liquidated into cash for the most part. And well hidden or well invested for the time being.” Bradshaw said. There was a glint in his eye as he did so. Hellboy could tell that money was truly his element. “You are a very wealthy man, my lord.” Bradshaw said.

            “Aw fuck, just call me Taker, okay John? Same goes for you Farooq. Anybody who knew me while I still had acne deserves that much.” Mark said. Hellboy laughed quietly at that. “And we’re going to share this wind fall ‘inheritance’. I will not hoard like he did.”

            “Sure Taker.” Bradshaw said and grinned. He was relieved that stubborn Mark would accept this so quickly.

            “And get the hell up. If I do this, will you promise not to kneel before me?” Mark asked. “I mean, unless I ask for it, but I can’t see myself doing that any time soon.”

            “Deal” Bradshaw said and laughed as he and Farooq got to their feet. “Things are going to be different with you... Better I mean.”

            “I hope so.” Mark said quietly. There was a short period of silence.

            “Orders?” Farooq finally asked. Mark took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Apparently thinking just what he could set the boys up with doing in order to keep them occupied while he was being held here.

            “New Orleans” Mark finally said. “Go there and set us up a household. Send out the word to all who are relevant to come. If ol’ Mick shows up with that damn mask on, tie him up and toss him in a locked room until I get there. I’ll deal with him personally. Feed him now again. If he’s not masked and sorted his damn head out, offer him a beer but keep a serious fucking eye on him... Assemble my necessaire and an altar, and put your finger on the pulse for potential business. Nothing fucked up or underhanded. We’re going as above board as possible.” Mark said thoughtfully. “I want to make the operation useful to people.”

            “All right.” Bradshaw said with a gleam in his eyes. “I knew you’d be a natural at this, Taker.”

            “...And take Mideon with you. Set him to any renovations to the house that you think appropriate to be done.” Mark said.

            “Sure Taker.” They said, and left soon after, full of purpose. Mideon kicked up a temporary fuss, but eventually did what he was told once he heard it from Mark’s mouth. Hellboy noted how he comforted the demon in human form as if he were a child, and then sent him on his way.

            Things once more calmed down, and Professor Bruttenholm escorted Bradshaw, Farooq and Mideon out, but Hellboy lingered in Mark’s room. Mark was unusually quiet and still holding the human part of his body well above and away from everyone.

            “So Mark, just who the hell is Mick? I’ve heard you mention him a couple of times now.” Hellboy asked to get Mark talking. He’d noticed how quiet he’d gotten in the last couple of days.

            “Long story, Red.” Mark said. However, when greeted with Hellboy’s patient gaze, he took a breath and continued. “Mick was another of Paul’s attempts to control me. Mostly as I was starting to make noises about leaving. Mick was brought in to be something of a friend, mentor and body guard... Paul enforced a measure of control over him in the same manner he did to Glen, by masking and binding him using what I assume to be a similar spell. However, when I continued to make more noises about getting out of there, the relationship became somewhat violent.” Mark said. “He tried to beat me into submission, and failed eventually. Though, I have yet to meet anybody else with a higher pain tolerance. No matter what I gave to him he took, and would then beat the ever loving shit out of me when I tired myself out.”

            “Is varying levels of violence all you’ve ever known?” Hellboy asked. Mark’s brow knit tightly and his look got cold like it had in the infirmary room.

            “Not my entire life... My mother was gentle, but not delicate by any means. During my younger years she quite often stood up to my father’s wrath when it was directed at me... After that, well, I suppose it was no more violent than what your life has become.” Mark replied, his expression softening as he thought of his mother.

            “That still doesn’t make it right.” Hellboy grumbled. But he shrugged it off because he didn’t want Mark to get annoyed with excess talk about his past. “You look like you could use some air.”

            “Yeah, I could, but please do no such thing, even if I ask... I... I think something may be wrong.”

            “What might be wrong?” Hellboy asked.

            “Not sure yet... Just... Just keep me in here in case I crack up or something.” Mark said quietly. “And you’ve got to make me another promise, Red.”

            “What’s that?”

            “If I start to lose control to Hecate, I need you to promise me you’ll have the compassion to put a bullet in my head.” Mark said.

            “What?” Hellboy asked, clearly shocked at this.

            “You heard me, and you’ve got to promise me you’ll do it. In this place, I know you’re the only one with the intestinal fortitude for it.”

            “Mark, that’s nuts. You can’t believe that it would go that far.”

            “I’d be stupid not to... Just think how much fun Hecate could have with my powers and body to make her whims manifest for as long as she likes.” Mark replied. “Promise me, Red.” Mark’s face was deadly serious. Hellboy glared back at him and took his time answering. It was a lot to consider and while he flat out wanted nothing to do with Mark dying, the consequence of an unfriendly goddess being unleashed on humanity was a factor too large to ignore.

            “As a last resort only... Absolute last resort.” Hellboy finally agreed quietly. It was more of a reluctant mutter than clear speech.

            “I’ll tell you when... If I still can. Thank you for understanding the gravity of this.” Mark said.

            “Last resort only, Mark... Until then you got more suffering in store.” Hellboy said and Mark chuckled a little.

            “And I’ve got a last request if it comes to that.”

            “Yeah, what’s that?” Hellboy asked. He wished to be able to just shoot the shit with Mark again. Despite their short time together, he’d gotten used to that and missed it. But he’d feel like a heel if he refused to hear and fulfill a friend’s last request.

            “You’ll explain things to Jacqueline for me? I’ll need someone to tell her to her face that I loved her beyond my ability to make words to describe it... It’s just that life got in the way.” Mark said.

            “Yeah man... I can do that. But why don’t we just bring her here? Seeing her might help you out a little, if only to give you something to look forward to.” Hellboy offered. Mark sighed heavily.

            “I don’t know, Red. I really don’t know. I’ve tried to keep her as far away from all this as possible. I never wanted her to have to deal with any of my shit. She’s got enough to worry about as it is.” Mark said softly.

            “If she really cares, she’d want to be here.” Hellboy said. Mark’s eyes closed for a moment, considering this carefully. “Besides, you’re probably just scared she’ll freak out and not want anything to do with you... She’s seen you like this before, right? And you said she’s a Voodoo priestess. I’d say that you really don’t have much to worry about.” Mark’s eyes opened wide, and his brow furrowed, completely insulted for a moment. But just as he opened his mouth to fire off at Hellboy his expression changed. His face was instantly calm and his gaze fell away from Hellboy down to the floor.

            “Fuck, you’re probably right.” He said. “Damn it, who taught you to be so perceptive?”

            “Well, it is what they pay me for.” Hellboy said, keeping his tone light. “And I ain’t even psychic.” Mark chuckled again, and actually held his smile after he was done.

           “By the way if our back up plan is going to work, I’m going to see that teeny little pistol of yours.” Mark said suddenly.

            “Why?”

            “If Hecate is well and truly in my head, and gets comfy, she’ll be able to use all the abilities I have. I need to make whatever you use on me immune to telekinesis... among other things.”

            “All right” Hellboy said and nodded.

            In the following days, Mark got quieter and quieter. He was carefully observed by the techs, medical personnel, and Hellboy himself, during which everyone noticed a fundamental change in Mark. The most apparent thing being that he was talking less and less. He nodded and grunted, but looked increasingly less interested in the world around him. When Hellboy questioned Professor Bruttenholm about it, he theorized that it could perhaps be Mark disassociating himself from the world in order to escape reality. But then in his following breath, explained that Mark may be right and that greater things were afoot in his mind.

            Mark had been all business when Hellboy had brought various weapons for him to work whatever mumbo jumbo over them that he needed to. Pleasant, but not friendly as Hellboy had gotten used to. Hellboy had also been told that those observing Mark had noticed that he was becoming increasingly less interested in anything. He left the books that had been given to him as stimuli to gather dust in the small areas of the room that wasn’t occupied by his snake half. Still it was Mark in control, and Hellboy knew that on some instinctual level. He just wondered how long it would last.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

            Mark woke and he was alone and cold... very cold. He knew that the temperature of the room couldn’t have dropped for any logical reason. Outside the B.P.R.D. building it was still technically the heating season. The lights were low in the room and the old analog clock on the wall said it was three. The lack of any ambient noise led Mark to believe it was the witching hour as opposed to approaching the British concept of tea time. He tried to move too suddenly at first and got little more than a lackadaisical twitch from his body.

            “Too cold” Mark muttered to himself. Then his mind woke up fully, and he realized that he’d never been too cold before while bonded with Hecate like this. This was a new development and also something very reptilian to be. His mind raced now to the conclusion that Hecate really was trying to take a firmer hold on his mind and body. He forced himself to move and wondered how much longer he’d have control. He also took a second to curse his situation and being given to a goddess against his will.

            That brought his thoughts back to the first time this had happened, when he’d been a kid in that hot, roach infested hotel room. He’d been in complete shock and Paul had fed him some pills and squashed his senses with an ether soaked rag to silence him. He’d kept Mark drugged for the entire month it took for the tail to rot off. Being knocked senseless like that had kept Mark from perhaps getting to know the power now within in him... As if he’d needed any more in the first place. But that was the thought of his more recent, maturing mind.

            He’d grown humble and secretive about his power as a general rule, especially where it concerned Hecate. He would honour his goddess where necessary, but still never forgot that she’d become his goddess against his will.

            Mark groaned and stretched in an effort to warm up, and his mind continued to mull over his predicament. Before, Hecate had taken a back seat to Paul in terms of how he was being controlled. Now, with Paul gone, and Mark standing on the precipice of true freedom for the first time in his life, he wondered if Hecate had suddenly seen fit to step up her control over him. Mark rubbed his eyes and forced the scales on his belly to move by undulating them, muttering to himself “I’m a mammal for fuck sakes.”

            He finally started moving and circled the room a few times, considering his possible fate of being Hecate’s direct channel into humanity would do the world. His first thoughts were of Glen and Jacqueline of course. Jacqueline could handle herself in the face of anything. It was part of what attracted him to her. Power was a be all and end all in his life, and he knew he had a complex about it. Still despite all the strange shit in his life, he never had to worry about Jacqueline if she happened to get caught up in the aftermath.

            Glen though, was a different story. Mark still wasn’t at all sure of Glen’s specific capabilities. But if he could be controlled with the right spells in place, then how could he resist Hecate? She could very easily choose to focus her attention on him through the connection that Mark had to Glen... That thought chilled Mark more thoroughly than the room temperature ever could. He set his eyes on the door of the room. He’d said nothing to anybody other than Hellboy to remind them of his telekinetic abilities. Bradshaw had it partially right. Mark had stayed because he felt he should, not because of the barriers they’d put up in front of him.

            A careful thought threw the locking mechanism of the door as easily as he’d tossed Hellboy’s pistol away from them that night in the Texas cemetery. A well aimed flick of his tail swung the door open, and another thought ‘blinded’ those watching him via the video cameras to his escape. He picked up one of his own personal books from the floor, and moved himself out into the hall. He grimaced in pain as he moved, finally reminded plainly of the injuries he’d sustained in his fight with the goat men. He’d kept the burned section always to the inside of the room, avoiding scraping it along the wall and the pain that went with it. He grimaced, but was not deterred from his goal.

            Glen was surprised when the door to the cell opened. Not by the act itself, but by the hour and who was on the other side of the door. Glen was groggy as he squinted into the light pouring in from the hallway, which was still far more than was in the cell at the time. Mark was there, perched above the ground on the snake half of his body. Impressive it may have been, but it only proved to Glen Mark’s foolhardiness and dependence. He still had to rely on someone else to help him gain control that night... Mark, oh so adored by his goddess, had become dependent on her.

            “Hecate doesn’t adore me.” Mark said instead of hello. “I am her property, essentially. And it was Paul who offered me up in sacrifice to her.”

            “Stay the fuck out of my head.” Glen growled, as he got up off the floor where he slept, and moved over to the lone chair in the room.

            “I’m not in your head. You’re projecting.” Mark replied. He did not hesitate to bring himself further into the room. Looking Glen over, he saw that the chair which held him was cheap and expendable and impossibly supported Glen’s roughly three hundred pounds of muscle. Glen’s eyes glared defiantly back at Mark from behind his mask, wondering just how the hell Mark had made it that far out of where they had him caged up.

            “They have cameras on us, you fucking idiot. They’ll be here any second.” Glen said.

            “Not if I tell the minds of the people who are watching us that what they are seeing is perfectly normal.” Mark replied.

            “So you’d presume to control them to.” Glen said. His voice sounded irritated and disappointed in Mark, along with carrying all the rest of his lingering spite for his elder brother.

            “Only for a little while Glen. Nothing binding. I won’t be in here long anyways.” Mark said. Glen gave a nod to the small, leather bound book which Mark carried in his hands.

            “You’re going to set me free? Even though you yourself already said you couldn’t trust me... You really are an idiot.” Glen said.

            “I never said I wasn’t capable of trusting you, just that I wasn’t sure if I should. However, after some thought on the subject, the best I can figure is that Paul worked some kind of ‘blindness’ into his hold over you. You will never be able to feel the truth of what I’m saying until it is removed, Glen. So I have to remove it, or we’re never going to make any progress.” Mark said, once again hoping that Glen would see reason.

            “I hate you.” Glen said. His eyes clearly reflected what he spoke of.

            “Yes, because you’ve been told to do so. I am here to clear your head of that compulsion, and you’ll be free to make your own decision about whether or not you hate me.” Mark said. His forced movement had caused him to warm up to a point where he could move quickly again, and before Glen knew what was happening, the rest of Mark’s snake half was in the room, and he was once more bound up in the coils. “Remember that I am fulfilling my promise, Glen. So I ask you to please not burn me while I do this.”

            “Fuck that, and fuck you!” Glen hollered, hoping it would draw some kind of attention. His anger welled up in him, and he knew that the fire within him had already started to gather around him, and would be scorching his brother’s scaled half. Mark groaned in pain and put more of a squeeze on Glen, hoping that the lack of oxygen might stifle the flames. When it didn’t, Mark merely took a breath, opened his small spell book and started reciting the words he’s put together for this. He knew that for all Paul’s faults, he was a true genius when it came to spell writing. However, he’d been a selfish genius, never writing much down, and certainly never sharing his ability.

            He’d never taught Mark anything specific when it came to spell writing, for the express purpose of keeping the boy firmly under his thumb. But Mark was a natural study at most whatever caught his interest. Despite the blocks that Paul had put on his mind to prevent Mark getting in, Mark had learned the words by taking the time to understand what Paul meant by them, and hence learned the language on his own. He didn’t even know the name of the language, but he had a working knowledge of how to use it. The thought crossed his mind that he was going to have to get a lot better at it if he were going to assume Paul’s position, but he let that fall away. He had other things to be concentrating on.

            It was hard enough to keep reciting with the smell of his own cooking flesh in his nose. Barbeque it wasn’t. The pain was another thing. It was a fairly basic mental trick to temporarily ignore one’s own pain. But to ignore something as primordial as one’s own sense of smell was fucking impossible.

            He spoke and called his power about him, refining it and putting it into focus. He sifted through the layers of traps and spells placed on them both by Paul, and started peeling them back, using his words, power, and sheer force of his own will.

            Meanwhile Hellboy was moving as quietly as his large body was able. He wanted to sneak Mark a couple of late night beers, as he figured that it was a form of nourishment that he wouldn’t refuse. However, when he got downstairs and into the secure area where Mark and Glen were being held, he immediately knew something was wrong.

            The smell is what he first noticed. He smelled something burning, and this time his nose told him it was flesh. He hurried forward, and resisted the urge to wretch. He then heard Mark’s voice, speaking in words that definitely weren’t English. Hellboy booted it up the hall, not caring if anybody heard him now, in the direction of the smell and Mark’s voice.

            He pulled up short at the room where Glen was being held. What he saw when he got there was a breathless Glen, trying valiantly and failing to free himself from Mark’s coils. Mark was holding his human half well away from Glen and continued to read aloud from his small book. Hellboy could see very little of the fire Glen generated or the smoke, but knew what he was attempting to do. Sensing the potential danger in this situation, he stepped into the room and closed the fireproof door behind him.

            Within mere moments though, Glen’s angered struggling came to a standstill, and he looked up at Mark, his eyes wide. Then Mark finished speaking, tossed the book to the side and brought his human half closer to Glen. The mask covering Glen’s face fastened at the back of his head with heavy leather buckles. Mark moved in close, despite the fire flickering up from Glen’s skin and burning his arms. He had to work quite hard to pry the buckles loose.

            Hellboy stood back and watched all this in awed silence. He knew full well what Mark was up to, and was by no means going to disturb him now. He thought he heard the vaguest movement of air as the mask was finally pulled away from Glen’s face. Glen gasped as Mark pulled his upper body away from Glen in order to escape the fire, though his scorching lower half continued to hold Glen fast.

            Mark tossed the mask in the same direction as the book, and the flames that Hellboy could see started to diminish until nothing was left but trails of smoke emerging from Mark’s scorched flesh. Glen stared up at his brother, his face was pale and gaunt, and showed his complete astonishment. “It’s so quiet.” He whispered.

            “I told you I would set you free. I kept my promise.” Mark said.

            “I... Yes, you did.” Glen replied and took a moment to gather his thoughts. The pure want to inflict as much pain and despair on his brother as possible was gone, and left a ragged, gaping hole in him where he thought his life should have been.

            “Glen, I beg you now, please stop this rampage against me, because I will _not_ fight back... And if you must continue it, then just burn me up to a crisp now and be done with it. I hope that you could at least be that merciful.” Mark said. His voice and face reflected just how exhausted he was.

            “I, I don’t know... What the hell am I supposed to _do_ now?” Glen asked. His voice was small and lost, and Hellboy’s heart went out to him. He’d seen this before with various ‘other’ creatures, ones who weren’t quite human but thought and emoted like them, when separated from their former purpose, have a moment exactly like this. Hellboy had seen this before, and he would see it again, but it still didn’t change how he felt about it. The compassion that his father had carefully nurtured into him was never easily forgotten.

            “New Orleans is a good place for... Well, for people like us. I’m having John and Farooq set up a household there as we speak.” Mark offered, finally letting his desperate want for family and belonging see the light of day, if only discreetly.

            “Or barring that, the B.P.R.D. is always looking for able-bodied field agents who can handle themselves in a fight.” Hellboy suggested. He noticed that Glen had a heavier brow than Mark, and it was a dead give away to show how frustrated and confused he was at the moment. He also took notice of the faint web of scars that ran down Glen’s right temple and cheek. For the most part, his eye, nose and mouth had been spared, small mercies being what they were.

            “I don’t want to look at either of you right now.” Glen said.

            “Please, Glen, just talk to me about this. We can-” Mark started.

            “Go away” Glen growled. His was voice low and deadly serious. Mark immediately had the good sense to shut up and avoid raising Glen’s ire any further. He slowly started to release him from the hold of his coils, the pain from the burns agonizing, but he didn’t stop until Glen was standing his own two feet on the floor. Mark lingered there though, hoping Glen might reconsider. “I said, GET OUT!” Glen bellowed and then sank to his knees with a hand covering his face.

            “All right” Mark agreed, but nearly choked on the words seeing his brother like this. In the low light Hellboy couldn’t see if Mark was close to breaking down, but he certainly sounded like it. Mark started moving again. This time he picked up the discarded spell book and Glen’s mask. “I’ll go, but Glen, I want you to know that Paul hurt me too. Just fucking take a look at me and you can see the influence he could have over someone... But he’s gone now, and all we have left other than some scars and a really fucked up story, is one another. Please don’t let him win by destroying that too.” Mark said, and set the mask down in front of Glen. “He was a selfish prick, and I’m glad he’s gone, but that doesn’t mean what he did will ever go away. We’re just going to have to deal with that one way or another.”

            Mark then started to move his body as quickly and quietly as possible out of the room. Glen didn’t respond and Mark didn’t expect him to. Both of them had a lot to think about now. Mark just hoped that he’d get a response before he went into his conflict with Hecate.

            As soon as the last of Mark’s snake half was out of the room, Hellboy secured the door for the night and went to join Mark. He paused at Mark’s door though. Mark was inside, sniffing sharply and holding a hand over the bridge of his nose. Hellboy waited quietly, making sure not to look directly at Mark until he’d regained his composure. “You want a beer?” Hellboy asked, having recovered the case of chilled cans from the hallway. He’d hoped they’d had enough time to settle from his sprint down the hallway. Mark took a deep breath and turned his flushed face to Hellboy.

            “How many do you got?” Mark asked. He sounded miserable.

            “Enough to forget... Or to remember if that’s what you’re going for.” Hellboy said and set the case down, grabbing two as he straightened up again. “Or maybe even to bury it if that’s what you need to do.”

            “I made a vow a long time ago to never forget, Red. I always wanted that fuck to be culpable.” Mark said, opening the can as soon as Hellboy handed it to him. He seemed all too willing with the first sip he took.

            “You want to talk about that?” Hellboy asked cautiously.

            “Nope” Mark replied quickly. “Because somewhere in this thing,” Mark gestured over his still large, but very injured and foul smelling tail “I still have a set of testicles... I ain’t talking.” Mark said and Hellboy laughed quietly. “But I _will_ tell you what a piss off it is to get exactly what you need, not want, need, and _still_ have it be a big, hollow, fucking disappointment.” Mark took another long sip from the beer can.

            “You’re saying that you never wanted Paul dead?” Hellboy asked.

            “Plenty of times, but never anything that lasted... I just wanted him to fade away because he didn’t deserve my time wasted on revenge. I almost thought that had happened until he sent Glen after me... Only then did I need for him to be gone, because if he’d won, if Glen had managed to beat me, we both would have been subjugated to Paul’s whims for the rest of our days. And call me stupid or crazy, but I don’t think freedom is such a big thing to ask of the world.” Mark said. Thoughts of his own subjugation to Hecate crossed his mind, but he refused to linger on them for now in an effort to keep what little of his sanity he had left.

            “No, it certainly isn’t.” Hellboy said, and raised his own can in toast to that.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

            Hellboy found himself growing uncomfortable in Mark’s presence very shortly after that conversation. Mark had slipped into a waking trance and wasn’t speaking at all now. He remained perched up on his coils in the corner of the cell, quiet and waiting. His behaviour was eerie enough that Hellboy seriously considered doing what Mark had asked him. Whatever it was that was happening to Mark, his quality of life had certainly gone for a shit. He just sat there, breathing and blinking and that was about it.

            Very quickly the doctors and other assorted medical staff made Hellboy and Professor Bruttenholm aware that Mark, despite no regular intake of nutrients, was healing remarkably quickly from the burns Glen had given him. There was no earthly explanation for it. By all popular logic, Mark’s body should have started to consume itself for survival long ago. But aside from the burns, he was apparently in the peak of health. All his vitals were checking out with the same regularity they had since he’d changed, and the docs had to assume that this was his ‘normal’ while in this state.

            Hellboy was skimming medical reports while standing outside the thick door to the cell that held Mark. He sighed deeply, trying to bring himself to go in, but couldn’t. Now he was worried that Mark would start talking again; and when he did, he would ask Hellboy to pull the trigger.

            Across the hallway, the door to Glen’s cell opened, and Liz stepped through it, closing it behind her. She’d finally been permitted to enter today and offer him a change of clothes and some food. Before this afternoon, anybody attempting to get into the room while Glen was awake had been met with a wall of fire. Hellboy, despite having a resistance to fire, stated firmly that he wasn’t going to even bother trying.

            The crew observing both Glen and Mark via video camera had told Liz that after Mark and Hellboy left him alone, Glen had plunked down on the floor beside the mask looking at it as if it were a corpse. Liz had been shown clips of Glen muttering, rocking, and then finally breaking down with a short outburst of angry tears. After that, he’d moved away from the mask and appeared not to have looked at it since.

            “What are you up to, Red?” Liz asked and Hellboy was brought back to the present moment, his attention finally freed from the dry facts on Mark’s medical reports.

            “Checking out what the docs think of Mark’s health after today’s regular poke and prod... He’s oddly fine if totally unresponsive to stimuli as they see it.” Hellboy replied. He looked up from the folder to Liz and saw the object she held in her left hand. “Is that Glen’s mask?” He asked.

            “Yes. He said he didn’t want it around anymore. I can hardly blame him. It’s just freaky enough that I thought Kate might like to study it.” Liz said. Hellboy smirked and rolled his eyes.

            “Liz, don’t you think it’d be better to leave the Christmas shopping until after Easter at least?” Hellboy teased. Liz let out a groan of appropriate volume.

            “I see your sense of humour hasn’t completely left you yet.” She said.

            “Defense mechanism as always.” Hellboy said. “How’s Glen?”

            “Really quiet, but he seems to be coming to terms with reality. He said he needs a haircut and a shave, which has to be a big step on the road towards normal.” She said and paused for a moment. “... He’s just so sad.”

            “His life is something of a mess right now. Did he say anything about wanting to see Mark?”

            “No” Liz said quickly. “And I didn’t feel he was in the head space to bring it up. But if they could get talking, I think it would help the both of them. Mark still mute?”

            “To the best of my knowledge. I haven’t gone in yet.” Hellboy admitted and closed the folder with the medical reports in it.

            “Too depressing?” Liz asked.

            “No, it’s just that I may as well be walking into an empty room. Nobody’s home in there.” Hellboy said and sighed. “It’s gonna take something big to shake Mark out of this and put Hecate back in her place. I thought Glen might be able to do it, but putting them in the same room right now would just result in fire.”

            “You’re probably right... What about that girlfriend Mark mentioned? Bringing her here might get his attention at least.” Liz offered.

            “I’ve thought of that. I even mentioned it to him, but he was cool on the idea. I think he’s got some infantile fear of rejection and abandonment... If mid-afternoon talk shows have taught me anything I mean.” He said. Liz smiled, but otherwise ignored the crack.

            “I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” She said. “He’s been in servitude for half of his life. His adult life has always been about pleasing somebody else, and he’s probably got some deep rooted fears about what happens if he displeases those people. He doesn’t want to make her angry because he’s afraid she’ll leave him alone.” Liz looked down at the mask she held in her hand. “While Glen on the other hand, embraces his solitude... For now anyways.”

            “And here I was gonna say something about them being tough to call. I stand corrected and enlightened.” Hellboy said, smiling at Liz.

            “I say we call her. At the very least she deserves to make up her own mind about it.” She said. Hellboy shrugged.

            “So long as you make the call. You sound a lot friendlier on the phone than I do.” He said. “Then I’m gonna buy you the finest dinner the take out of your choice has to offer.”

            “You don’t have to do that, Red.” She said, but smiled coyly up at his eyes. Coming from him, the offer was probably as ‘romantic’ as her ever practical friend would get. Liz was comfortable with that though.

            Upon presenting the idea of contacting Mark’s girlfriend to Professor Bruttenholm, he readily agreed that it would be prudent to let those who cared about Mark know his current situation. With Glen tied up in his own matters, Jacqueline, the mysterious Voodoo Mambo was their best bet at shaking Mark’s mind loose from Hecate’s hold.

            Liz made the call immediately from the desk in Bruttenholm’s office. It took a bit of smooth talking to get through to the woman who was supposedly Jacqueline. But things became much more direct when Liz dropped Mark’s name and the fact that he was in trouble.

            The woman she got on the other end of the line sounded gentle and very concerned about Mark’s welfare. When the offer to come up to the Bureau’s headquarters was brought up, she quickly agreed, and implied in the same breath that others would be accompanying her. She also just as quickly stated that she had friends in the area that could accommodate them.

            “We’d have to clear it with the higher ups, but it should be possible.” Liz explained. Jacqueline’s tone then became very quiet and serious.

            “How is he, really?” She asked. “What should I expect when I get there?”

            “He’s not very good and going downhill fast. That’s why we called you. He hasn’t asked for you, but I think he might be afraid to on some level.” Liz said. “Whatever it is that possessed him, it’s got a tight hold on him. He’s stopped speaking completely, just sits in the room we’ve set him up in. He won’t even make eye contact with anybody who enters the room anymore. Physically, we have to assume he’s fine, as he’s not showing any signs of distress.”

            “His goddess, Hecate is selfish. She grows ever more persistent in wanting to have him as a permanent servant. I have seen it before, but never as bad as you have described it... I will try and prepare something to banish Hecate, if I can. It’s like I’ve had to share him ever since he came into my life. I grow weary of that.” She said. Liz was surprised at how her gentle voice showed a hint of bitterness and venom. She sounded like she was used to people doing what she told them to, and goddess or no, this infraction on her authority was not welcome. “He’s a good man, Miss Sherman, whether he believes it for himself or not.” She concluded, and Liz found herself smiling into the phone’s receiver.

            Jacqueline wasted no time and they then sorted out the details which were to be finalized in the next two days and she said a polite goodbye. At that point though, she seemed distant in her words, as if her mind had already turned to other things. Whatever it was that had taken Jacqueline’s attention, Liz sure as hell hoped that they would be beneficial to Mark, the poor bastard. Liz knew well what it was like to have a monster inside, but these days the monster stayed inside because she was strong enough to control it. Mark clearly didn’t have that option anymore, and she knew how helpless that position felt.

            Hellboy, who’d been standing in a corner of the office throughout Liz’s conversation, let out a quiet sigh. He thought about having a cigar, thinking that it might calm his mind. But he had promised Liz dinner, so resolved to wait and enjoy it after he’d eaten. His gaze was held steady on Liz as she rose from the chair behind the professor’s desk and he smiled at her, thanking her silently for making the call. She returned the expression and they headed for the door.

            Over dinner they managed to accost Abe and have him join them in one of the Bureau’s common living areas for takeout Chinese food. As was usual for Hellboy in his off time, he was ravenous. The three of them were shooting the breeze and it was as normal as things would ever get for them. They exchanged various pearls of sarcasm and bad puns, which they used to defend themselves from the darker things that played at the edges of their minds. They relayed the funnier parts of their war stories, and ignored the disturbing parts. They were probably entirely too loud for the late hour that it was getting to be, but they weren’t too concerned. If someone wanted them to shut up, they would ask, though few people had ever been brave enough to tell Hellboy to shut up.

            When the conversation inevitably drifted back to the present moment, and Glen and Mark down in the basement, their chatter finally quieted down. Hellboy in particular got grim and sullen. And it was here, in the company of trusted friends that he admitted Mark’s wish to be put out of his misery if Hellboy was forced to. He had a cigar finally perched between his index and middle fingers of his left hand. His thumb and two remaining fingers clasped a long neck bottle of beer. His stone right hand hung limp at his side, eating was another activity he didn’t use it for. He was hunched over the table, his left elbow resting on it, and he looked miserable as he repeated the request Mark had asked of him. “He asked me to shoot him if he bugs out.” Hellboy said eventually.

            “You’re serious?” Liz asked.

            “Scout’s honour, Liz. He wants me to put a bullet between his eyes if Hecate gets too comfy in there and figures out how to truly take that body for her own.” Hellboy took a sip of his beer, his dexterous fingers managed to keep the burning cigar away from his skin while he did so.

            “I suppose I can see why... But it still seems rather extreme.” Abe observed.

            “No shit. I mean, does everything we deal with have to be so damn dramatic?” Hellboy asked and Liz rolled her eyes in response.

            “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Hecate and her kind seem to be set on Armageddon or bust.” Abe said dryly.

            “Does he really think he’s going to have to die to be free of her?” Liz asked.

            “He thinks it’s a definite possibility. I really, really don’t want for it to come to that though. But if he becomes all monster, I don’t see what other choice we have.” Hellboy said. “Goddamn all or nothing sorcerer bullshit.” He grumbled. “Why can’t I have any normal drinking buddies? Hell with the Bureau, I’m gonna go be a bricklayer.”

            Both Liz and Abe knew Hellboy was just venting his frustration with the situation, taking no insult and knowing that he was just trying to ignore the stress he felt because of what was happening. Liz smiled sweetly at him, with an impish look in her eye.

            “Like you’d have the patience for that.” She said. “You’d be bored after two minutes.”

            “Give his attention span some credit, Liz.” Abe defended. “He could probably last until lunch time... That is if he could get up early enough in the morning to make it to work on time.” Hellboy’s glum expression changed to a smirk. Maybe this talking thing most of the people in his life told him to do actually had some merit after all. While the problem hadn’t changed or come any closer to a resolution, he at least felt better.

            “So what did the Voodoo Mambo have to say?” Abe asked.

            “She’s on her way, which is good. The suits upstairs were bugging me around lunch time to go investigate the possibility of werewolves or a colony of bigfoot in the Yukon.” Hellboy said. The world was still going on outside the Bureau’s walls, and Hellboy could only ignore it for so long.

            “She’ll be here soon, Red.” Liz said, trying to ease his mind. “And she even said that she was going to try and come up with something to help Mark. Given what she does for a living, I assume she’s extremely familiar with the whole concept of possession.”

            “Yeah but Hecate? I don’t know of her presence in any recognizable form in the canon of known Loa in Voodoo. Could she even affect Hecate?” Abe wondered aloud.

            “I wouldn’t mess with a Voodoo Mambo... But I’m not a goddess either.” Liz said.

            “Says you. With the looks of most of the folks around here, you’re the closest to a goddess we got.” Hellboy said. He was still smirking as he puffed away on his cigar.

            “Flattery will get you everywhere, Red.” Liz teased back. Abe interrupted before that train of conversation could go any farther.

            “So, werewolves or Bigfoot... That’s a pretty big difference. How come they’re not sure what they’re dealing with?” He asked.

            “Initial reports say the tracks were inconclusive. Snow, mud, and the blood and remains of some poor cow all mixed together. They had some crime scene techs investigate, thinking at first it was possibly some kind of cult committing ritual sacrifice. But they couldn’t be sure of anything. Last I knew they were going to call in some experienced guides for hunting in the area to have a look. I, joy of joys, have been asked to deal with whatever they determine it to be.” Hellboy explained. “Which reminds me, I’ll have to stock up on silver shot.” He rubbed his eyes. With a full belly and a cigar, he was now ready for about twelve solid hours of sleep.

            “It’s probably just a really hungry bear.” Abe said.

            “I should be so lucky.” Hellboy replied dryly.

            He felt a pang of guilt for not going into the room to see Mark, but he was just so tired of seeing him like that. It sucked that he’d finally made a new friend and may have to lose him before really getting to know him. He so rarely got to have real friends in his line of work. The manner of losing him was also a responsibility he wanted no part of, but Hellboy recognized his role within the Bureau. His father and Kate Corrigan, and even Abe to some extent, could research and investigate to their heart’s content. Liz was great at bringing solace and counseling those caught up in the aftermath. But Hellboy did the grunt work. The poundings doled out to make the world safer were usually his responsibility alone.

            When he left the table to finally go to bed, Abe had already wandered off for the night. So Hellboy instead managed to pull Liz into a half hug, reminding himself and trying to tell her through the gesture that he’d never give up on her, or Mark, or anybody for that matter. He was his father’s son in the sense that he wanted to believe in the inherent goodness of people.

            He finally strolled off to his living quarters, watched some TV, smoked another cigar, and after stubbing it out, finally passed out to the sound of late night television.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

            “Son, wake up.” Bruttenholm said. His voice raised in urgency.

            “Mmph” Hellboy moaned and rolled away from the source of the voice. He followed that up with a more satisfied sounding “Mmph” when he was done.

            “Hellboy, wake up. Now.” Bruttenholm repeated. It was the urgency in his voice that caused Hellboy to respond. His father only sounded like that when he was deathly worried about something, and that wasn’t very often. Concern and regular worry were common for his father considering the line of work he was in. But real urgency, bordering on fear, was unusual and warranted Hellboy’s attention. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.

            “What’s wrong? Is it werewolves up North?” Hellboy never failed to notice how completely nuts some of his sentences would sound when taken out of context. Present company being who it was, he didn’t let it weigh on his mind all that much.

            “No... Well, I don’t know what’s going on there. What’s wrong is Mark.” Bruttenholm replied.

            “What’s going on?” Hellboy asked as he groped about in the murk surrounding his bed for clothing and footwear and started applying them to the proper places on his person.

            “He’s woken up, and we have no time to spare.”

            That really brought Hellboy around to wakefulness and he hauled himself out of bed and to his feet. “Crap” He muttered as he tightened his belt, and then went for his holster which held the Samaritan. He had made a point the previous day to clean the pistol while avoiding the suits upstairs bitching about him making the pike up to the Yukon. He was suddenly very glad that he’d brushed that off for one more day... and cleaned the pistol. Being the lousy shot that he was, he was going to need all the help he could get to be able to shoot straight.

            He tried not to let the thought of what might be inevitable enter his head. Extreme last resort only... Plan Z. He just hoped that he would be able to come up with plans A through Y first. He would also resort to plans Y.2, Y-3, Y/D or any variation thereof if he could think of them.

            Hellboy started dragging himself from his quarters and down the hall, trying his best to not outpace his father. He didn’t want to go into this alone for once... The thought crossed his mind that this is not how he wanted to ever start another day ever again in his life. He needed more sleep. His teeth needed brushing. His horns could use a sanding down... and Mother of God would a cup of coffee be great right about now. The fingers on his left hand instinctively brushed the grip of the pistol, and then flinched away. It was there. He knew it was there. Now all he had to do was figure out a way _not_ to use it.

            When he got there, he found much to his relief that the cell was still containing Mark. But clearly, whoever it was who was in control of his body was not happy about the situation. He’d heard the noise a long way off and it only got louder as he got closer to the cell.

            Mark was thrashing about behind the door. Hellboy was quickly briefed that the docs who had come in to check on him that morning had barely escaped with their lives. They were finishing up their morning routine when it came time to take the regular blood sample. Mark’s chosen position, holding his human half high against the wall, made it impossible for a sample to be taken from his arm without the use of a ladder. So instead of risking that hazard, they had upped the gauge of needle they used... and upped again, and then once more, in order to get it to actually penetrate under the thick scales Mark sported on his snake half.

            And while there had been no response of any kind from Mark before, that morning he’d reacted... violently. The medical team hadn’t even tried to speak to or calm Mark down. They had sensibly dropped everything and beat a hasty retreat out the door. Mark continued to throw himself into the steel reinforced concrete walls, and every few minutes would hit the door which would create a sound like thunder. “So, what should we do?” Hellboy asked his father between the bursts of noise.

            “I don’t exactly know. We have to try and exorcise Hecate’s hold on him is what I know. The how is what I’m not sure of.” Bruttenholm said.

            “No ideas at all?” Hellboy asked.

            “Nothing substantial. I have quite a few exorcism spells, but they are specific to demons, not gods.” Bruttenholm replied.

            “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. Call a priest.” Hellboy said.

            “Actually, I’m afraid it could. Mark’s mental state is in flux and hence most likely in delicate condition... That is if he can even be said to be in control at all anymore.” Bruttenholm said in his quiet, matter of fact way. Hellboy shrugged his massive shoulders and sighed. He only hesitated a moment and then reached for the heavy lock on the door to the cell. One of the onsite doctors stepped forward.

            “Just what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his expression clearly indicating that stepping into the cell was suicide.

            “Anybody else gonna go in there and ask him what’s got him so riled up?” Hellboy asked. He was met with silence and wide eyed stares. The exception was his father, who looked at him with his usual patience and belief that he had in his son’s ability to handle himself in any given situation. Hellboy attempted a smile to thank him for that, but wasn’t quite sure he had pulled it off as he threw the lock and opened the door to the cell.

            He didn’t have much time to linger on his predicament though. As quickly as he was inside the door was closed firmly behind him and he was ducking and weaving around Mark’s monstrous snake half.

            “Mark!” Hellboy tried, seeing if he could illicit some kind of response from his friend. There was none and Hellboy made a quick dodge to avoid becoming a big, red pamcake. He tried to stick to the room as much as possible to avoid the corners of the cell, as they seemed to be the focus of Mark’s fury.

            “Mark!” Hellboy shouted again. This time the creature’s head turned towards him, finally focusing on him where he’d just been moving about randomly and striking blindly before.

            “Mark’s not here. Let me out of this cage.” The creature said. The voice was deep, but had the same female element Hellboy had heard that night in Texas when Mark had first changed. At least that answered his question about who was in charge of Mark’s body. With Hecate’s attention brought a momentary cessation the slithering about in circles, which was nice because it was starting to give Hellboy a bit of vertigo.

            “Hecate then?” Hellboy asked.

            “Correct, Anung Un Rama.” The creature replied and started to slither about again. Hellboy’s brow furrowed. He had to keep his eyes focused on the human half of the creature, knowing that it could strike at any time. “Let me out of this cage if you have any wits about you. I will reward you handsomely.”

            “I can’t do that.” Hellboy replied. Perhaps not the most diplomatic thing for him to have said, but he’d never cared for diplomacy. He’d rather just get to the damn point.

            “You will bow before us if you will not rule beside us.” It said, and hissed for effect, exposing elongated canine teeth that Hellboy was sure Mark never had. He also noticed the coils started moving again and were slowly getting tighter and closer to him.

            “And you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you... Why do you want his body anyway?” Hellboy asked. He was trying to gather any information which might help to free Mark.

            “Markus has power which is useful to me as mine is to him. He was offered to me, so I took him. He is loyal to me.” Hecate said.

            “And has he been given any choice in the matter?” Hellboy asked. “Does he even know that he might not need you to survive?” The naga-like manifestation of Hecate started to circle the room more quickly. It was becoming clear that the goddess was becoming irritated with his presence.

            “Oh he needs me. I am the only stable thing in his life since his family died.” Hecate said.

            “His family isn’t all dead. His brother is still alive.” Hellboy countered.

            “They may as well be dead to one another for all the brotherly bond they share. Glen feels cheated of his entire life and blames Markus... They are no family.” Hecate declared.

            “They could be. People forgive each other.” Hellboy said and started plotting his next move. It would have to be quick and he hoped that Mark’s powers could not be accessed by Hecate yet. Mark had blocked certain objects from his power, including his pistol... Hellboy wondered if he’d thought to try and do the same to his own mind where it concerned Hecate. It would explain why he retreated into his mind before this development.

            Hellboy’s finger brushed his holster... Plan Z... Perhaps Plan Z could become part of Plan A. He just had to hope that there would be a breakthrough outside the cell where it concerned ridding Mark of Hecate’s hold.

            _Okay, here goes plan A._ He thought, and started to wait for the correct moment. “If I could get Glen to forgive Mark, would that prove to you he belongs to someone other than you?” Hellboy asked.

            “No” Hecate replied. Hellboy rolled his eyes. Gods and goddesses only wanted to play by rules of their own devising. At least she was honest about it.

            Hecate started to circle the cell at a faster pace, and inched closer to Hellboy, coils piling on top of coils. Hellboy could hear the scuttle of scales on scales, and realized that a wall was forming around him, entirely composed of Hecate. Not a good place to be. “Let me free. It is the last time I will ask.” She said.

            “Why on Earth would I do that?” Hellboy asked. “What kind of stupid do you think I am?”

            “What would be stupid is to think that you can avoid my inevitable escape from this weak cage. As soon as my servant’s telekinesis becomes mine, you will no longer be a problem.” Hecate said and Hellboy smirked. Mark had put up some kind of defense against her taking over completely.

            “Lady... Sir... Whatever the hell you are, you just said everything I needed to hear.” Hellboy said.

            Hellboy leapt for Hecate’s human half, opening his holster and going for the Samaritan in the same motion. He was aiming for the head of the creature, and managed to get his right arm around its neck. The creature choked when the stone of his forearm met its windpipe, but reacted in a way that Hellboy was not expecting.

            Instead of being pushed to the side or collapsing to the floor, Hecate used Hellboy’s upward motion and slammed Hellboy into the reinforced concrete of the ceiling. The blow knocked the wind out of Hellboy, but he managed to keep his hold on both Hecate and the Samaritan.

            Hecate then let out an unholy sounding cry, and slammed Hellboy into the concrete again. Hellboy allowed himself to swear loudly, but gritted his teeth and clamped down the chin lock on the creature with his right arm. He took one more pounding into the concrete before he managed to raise his pistol. Save for his grip on Hecate and the Samaritan, he let his body go dead weight in order to hinder Hecate’s movements as much as possible. “Get the hell down to the floor now!” Hellboy shouted and placed the barrel against Hecate’s ear. He cocked the pistol, and Hecate’s movements came to a dead halt. “Or I swear I will blow your damn head to pieces.”

            “I already have Mark’s body, how long do you think it will take me to access his powers? Once I do that little thing, you will not be able to stop me, and I will be unleashed to have my way with this world.” Hecate taunted.

            Hellboy’s brow furrowed with the annoyance he was feeling. He moved his left arm, and took aim at the snake half of Hecate and fired the pistol. The oversized caliber of the bullet blew a two foot wide crater in Hecate’s flesh. Hecate writhed and screamed and then landed in a heap on the floor of the cell. Hellboy’s grip was firm now and he kept his chin lock hold on the creature. Once he had Hecate’s human torso effectively pinned to the floor underneath him, Hellboy returned the still hot barrel of the Samaritan to about an inch above Hecate’s ear.

            “I mean it.” Hellboy said. “Mark told me to end him if this happened, but I’ve got a small hope that someone will be able to exorcise your hold on him yet... But he made me promise to kill him if you got to be too much to handle. I’ll pull the trigger again if I have to, and next time it won’t be a warning shot. So lie still now, because your temper tantrum is making everybody agitated and nervous.”

            “Even you?” Hecate hissed, taunting again.

            “Nope, not me... I just don’t like the chi of my happy home interrupted. I’m also the one with the gun to your head. Funny how that gives a body a certain amount of confidence.” Hellboy replied, trying his best to sound convincing.

            “So you plan on banishing me? How?” Hecate asked.

            “That’d be telling.” Hellboy said, and got himself as comfortable as possible. His legs were on the floor, and his chest was across the human torso of Hecate.

            “You have to sleep sometime.” Hecate warned.

            “I can stay awake for days.” Hellboy said confidently.

            “I don’t ever sleep.” Hecate said, with a certain amount of twisted glee.

            “Doesn’t matter. All I’ve got to do is stay awake until the cavalry arrives.” Hellboy said and hunkered down, hoping that would be sooner rather than later.

            The next thirty-six hours were not pleasant for Hellboy or Hecate. The goddess had played it smart and stayed still, claiming aloud every so often how close she was to taking Mark’s power for herself.

            Hellboy wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of having someone to talk to and merely tapped the now cool barrel of the Samaritan against what used to be Mark’s ear. Hellboy had also remained strategically silent about Mark’s spells placed over the weapon, preventing his power from touching it. It was something the goddess didn’t need to know. It was nice to have an ace in the hole, however small.

            He lay on top of Hecate, cramped and grumpy about the situation. No one had dared enter the cell after Hellboy, so he had no news of any plans that might be in the works on the other side of the door.

            The long hours spent in silence gave Hellboy some time to think though. Clearly Hecate was bound by this earthly body and its physical limitations for the time being. Otherwise she would have flicked Hellboy away like an insect and made good her escape. He figured he still had time to kill her if need be. Mark most likely had set up some road blocks for Hecate, clever guy that he was. He was banking on that fact for now.

            Hellboy also had the time to distance the naga creature he held at gun point as not being Mark, despite having his face. He hadn’t seen a glimmer of Mark in those eyes for days now, and this close proximity watching Hecate helped to confirm that in his mind. If Plan Z came down, at least it wouldn’t be Mark he was shooting at.

            His mind was wandering again when a knock came on the cell door, but it lasted a lot longer than most knocks would. It took a moment for Hellboy to realize that the knocking was coming in some sort of pattern, and another moment still to recognize it as a modified Morse Code. Growing up on military bases in the time period he had, meant that the ever curious Hellboy had picked up the language of pure sound as easily as he had the ancient languages his father had taught him.

            _O-N-H-E-R-E_ was what he managed to make out as the last part of the message. Mercifully it repeated. “ _S-O-N-H-O-L-D-O-N-H-E-L-P-S-O-O-N-H-E-R-E_ ”

            Hellboy grinned, but he did not let up his hold on Hecate. He just prayed that whatever was in the works would help Mark... If there was anything left of him to help that is.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a lot of poking around in order to get a basic grasp on what should happen in this chapter. I'm talking multiple trips to the library (reading books that were published in the 70's and books that were published last year) and scouring online for what little I could find that appeared to be legitimate information.
> 
> I knew basically from the point when I first described Jacqueline in the story that I was going to have to describe a Voodoo/Vodun ritual of Haitian origin at one point. So I had to hit the books and try not to fuck it up too badly. Please forgive any ignorance, and do remember if you know more about me on the topic (which probably ain't hard), that many of the details of how the order of things go vary from community to community. That said, I did try to get as many details of the 'how' as correct as I was able.
> 
> As for immediate results, do remember that this is already quite the fantastical work of fiction. I'm just trying to tell a good story here, I don't mean to offend. I do this out of interest in the topic, and the utmost respect for those that serve the Loa/Lwa. It's amazing stuff when you start reading about it.
> 
> Grammar hounds: Yes, I meant to put Domingue, not Dominick or Dominique or any variation thereof.
> 
> PS: YAY! I finally managed to work Kate Corrigan into this!

Chapter 15

 

            Another twelve long hours drudged by before Hellboy heard anything more. His limbs had long since gone numb, but he hadn’t relented. He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache he now felt from holding still for so long... Technically Hecate had heard whatever it was first, and Hellboy only knew something was up because of the creature starting to tense up beneath him.

            Then he felt it before he heard it. With the large surface area of the naga’s body, it was small wonder why Hecate had felt it first. To Hellboy it felt like and an earthquake coming. He had no idea what to make of it until the rumbling got closer, and Hellboy detected a beat... Drums. Loud drums, the cadence frantic and rushed were getting steadily nearer to the cell.

            Hecate was obviously fearful of the noise, and what parts of the monster which weren’t being pinned down by Hellboy started to ball up in the corner of the cell farthest from the door.

            The movement was slow and controlled, so Hellboy continued to hold the pistol steady but didn’t motion to fire it. Hecate was remaining calm... Sort of. “What are you up to?” Hellboy asked. Hecate didn’t reply, but rather her eyes rolled back in her head, and Hellboy felt her starting to writhe around more. Her motions seemed involuntary to Hellboy, and she clearly wasn’t focused on him at all anymore.

            The drumming suddenly got a lot louder, and Hellboy had to assume that the cavalry had crossed the threshold into the cell block. If this was Jacqueline the Voodoo Mambo, well she certainly knew how to make an entrance.

            Hecate then forcefully cast the human part of her upwards, and Hellboy was thrown clear of her. He miraculously landed on his feet and immediately took aim at her head as best he could. He had no doubt in his mind now that it was drums, and he could hear the faint echoes of the voices coming along with them. He held the Samaritan steady as Hecate continued to ball up, coils over coils, trying to reduce the surface area which was absorbing all the vibrations from the drums. Something about them was sending her absolutely batty.

            He barely heard the heavy lock on the door to the cell being thrown, but he sure did register the door being hauled open. All at once the already too small cell was filled past capacity with drummers and dancers decked out in striking white clothing on the women and gaudy colours on the men, and Hellboy was being jostled about. He was trying to keep his aim locked on Hecate, but having a hard time of it.

            Hecate let out another inhuman screech and then plunged the human half of Mark’s body down within the snake coils, trying to escape the noise. Hellboy found himself being pushed towards the wall of the cell, and not wanting to hurt or crush anybody, he went.

            The noise, despite being made by relatively few drums, was deafening. The strange echoes the concrete provided for didn’t help any. The language of the chants was for once, one that was foreign to Hellboy. Having the gift for languages he did, he thought he could hear discernable patterns and individual words, but it was something that he was not used to.

            Hellboy was pushed right up against the wall when he spotted his father at the doorway, standing with two women and a young man. One of the women was clearly a generation older than the other two. But that didn’t detract from her beauty at all. Or the younger woman’s for that matter. And they were beautiful... Stunning, really.

            His instinct told him that this was the elusive Jacqueline and her mother, but his logical mind told him that no way could downright pasty, ginger-headed Mark bag a woman that good looking. He shrugged that thought off, and delicately made his way over to the doorway, careful of the people flooding the room.

            Immediately the young man put himself between Hellboy and the two women. He was brandishing a sword that Hellboy was fairly certain was ceremonial in purpose, but it still looked like it meant business. In the interest of being peaceable, Hellboy finally holstered the Samaritan and held out his hand, not really thinking about the reek of gun oil which it would carry after holding it for so long. “Hello” He said only loud enough to be heard over the din of the cell. “I’m Hellboy. I’m told you’re here to help.”

            The young man’s expression softened a little, and then the elder woman took the young man by the shoulder with her free hand. In her other hand, she carried an elaborate rattle, and Hellboy quickly saw that everyone deferred to her. She spoke gently to the sword bearer in Creole and he stepped aside dutifully.

            “Hello” The woman said. “I’m Marie. Your father has told us so much about you.”

            “He has? Aw, geez.” Hellboy said, and was very glad for his colour for once. He could only imagine the array of stories about himself that his father had relayed to them. The woman smiled brilliantly, and tactfully ignored his bashfulness.

            “These are my children, Jacqueline and Domingue.” She said. That caused Hellboy to smile a little. Jacqueline then stuck out her left hand for Hellboy to shake in a friendly manner. That made him smile a little more widely. There was something about her... about all of them really, which radiated peacefulness and good karma. No wonder Mark had been so smitten with her.

            “If you’ll forgive this being a brief introduction, it is time to ask Papa Legba to open the gate.” She said, and then the three of them moved into the already packed cell.

            Hellboy took up a firm stance by the door. He wanted to remain close if the worst case scenario should still come to pass, with the Samaritan in its holster, which was unfastened as always. He was pleasantly surprised when Liz, Abe, and the previously M.I.A. Kate Corrigan came to stand next to his father and himself in the doorway. He didn’t fail to notice that Liz and Abe were armed, and that several of the Bureau’s agents stood behind them, also armed and wired as if on any other mission. _Never can be too careful._ Hellboy thought. His eyes came to rest on Kate. “How the hell are ya, Kate? Been a dog’s age since I’ve seen you.” He asked.

            “You know me, terribly fascinated as always.” She replied quietly. Hellboy chuckled at that.

            “How are you holding up, Red?” Liz asked.

            “Still completely wired, could use a bathroom break and a snack, but other than that, peachy all things considered.” He said, and then put his eyes back on Hecate.

            The activity in the cell was organized chaos to Hellboy’s eyes. The young man, Domingue, appeared to be directing the ritual, though Hellboy wasn’t quite sure. “Anybody want to fill me in on what’s going on?” He asked as a wooden pole, thin, but almost as tall as the ceiling of the cell was erected in a bucket of earth.

            Bruttenholm spoke and Hellboy had to listen carefully to hear. “Marie said that in consulting the Loa before she left, that Mark has managed to separate into pieces what I assume we would call his psyche, or even his soul, in an effort to block Hecate from completely taking over his mind. Gathering that information is what caused their delay in getting here.” He said. Hellboy nodded to acknowledge what he’d heard.

            The cell became suddenly very quiet and Marie started to speak in Creole again. “She’s asking Papa Legba to open the gates between the spiritual and material realm.” Bruttenholm whispered, and Hellboy again nodded in response. Marie spoke, moving the ceremonial rattle about in a well practiced manner. Hellboy noted a few clear spots on the floor of the cell, though despite his height, couldn’t make out their purpose because of all of the people blocking his view.

            He also thought he heard a couple of familiar words in the Creole language which he recognized from the French... something about the Holy Trinity, mysteries, and the dead. He caught the scent of rum, which had been poured on the floor in front of the pole. Jacqueline then handed Marie a pitcher of water, and she poured some of that before the post as well. Marie then turned, walked towards the door, while still pouring the water. She stopped just short of Hellboy and the rest, turned and walked back to the post. Hellboy was glad of the rough, unfinished concrete floor to prevent people slipping. If anything this wasn’t very mindful of safety in the workplace, but since these things would mostly happen outdoors, that probably wasn’t a factor. Marie then went to the drummers and poured water before the drums.

            Hellboy looked to Kate and his father for explanation, but Kate merely put her finger up to her lips to keep Hellboy quiet for the time being. He put on his best grumpy expression, but then returned his attention to the activity in the cell. Specifically he focused on Hecate, who hadn’t moved a muscle since ‘going to ground’.

            Domingue went to work again. He moved around with the sword and brightly coloured flags in what looked to Hellboy something very like calling the corners in witchcraft. Marie was moving about as well to the spots left clear on the floor, and appeared to be drawing on them with a variety of materials. Once more Hellboy’s always sensitive nose picked out a few things... ashes, cornmeal, and the tang of crushed red brick, among others.

            When the drumming and dancing resumed, it was at a slower pace than Hellboy expected, but he knew already that he had a lot to learn about Voodoo. It was Kate who spoke first to finally answer Hellboy’s silent question.

            “What she was doing was giving Papa Legba the means to open the gate, and honouring the drums which are considered sacred. They even have their own names, according to size.” She said quietly as she could while still being heard.

            “Well that makes a lot more sense now. What’s with the graffiti?” Hellboy asked.

            “They’re not graffiti, Red. They’re designs called _veves_ which represent and are the means by which the various Loa the Mambo or Houngan wants to call to the material plane, can come here.” Kate explained.

            “Ooh, somebody’s been at the books again.” Hellboy teased.

            “Is there ever a time, save for when I’m in the field, that I’m not?” Kate retorted. Hellboy grinned.

            “And sometimes even then...” He mused and chuckled a bit. He was over-tired he knew, and even the driest humour and sarcasm were going to get to him.

            In the cell, food was brought out by Jacqueline and she distributed among the drawings on the floor. Each seemed to have different tastes judging by what was being put where. Hellboy understood that basic concept. Everybody, even Loa apparently, had to eat.

            “Okay, I’ve got a question.” Liz said. “What’s with the rattle?”

            “It’s called an Asson, it’s the symbol of priestly power among houngans and mambos. Houngans and Mambos all being priests, the only difference being gender.” Kate said, suddenly glad that Trevor had requested her presence for this. Keeping Hellboy and everyone else occupied would keep them from possibly screwing up what Jacqueline, Marie and Domingue had planned. If Kate had comprehended what Marie had told her and Bruttenholm, they were going to ask the Loa to reconstruct Mark’s very soul. Kate had no idea if that was even possible, though she had to think that if anybody could do it, the vast pantheon of Voodoo Loa could.

            Hellboy’s gaze remained steady on Hecate, watching for signs of danger. There still weren’t any signs of movement from the goddess, but he knew that didn’t mean much. He’d seen how quickly that body could move and there were a lot of innocent people in that cell he didn’t want to see hurt.

            They fell into yet another pattern of waiting as the chanting and drumming went on. Hellboy could feel a pressure building up behind his eyes. He’d been awake for a couple of days now, and it was starting to show. He was officially starting to get a headache. To distract himself, he continued to pose questions to Kate and his father, and also requested the boys bring a chair for Bruttenholm to sit down in.

            Trevor Bruttenholm gave him a stern glance, and Hellboy gave him one right back. The battle of will continued until the actual chair was brought, and for once, Bruttenholm’s stern resolve bent a little and he made use of it. Hellboy didn’t gloat about his small victory in their ongoing battle of wills, despite the fact that he usually lost. He was just glad his father allowed himself to take a load off. He had the passing thought that if stubborn paid, both of them would be wealthy men.

            After that was sorted out, he let Kate and his father explain what Marie and family were attempting to do for Mark. Hellboy had natural doubts, but now was not the time to be playing Doubting Thomas. He watched as the drawings on the floor were slowly destroyed by the dancers, and that nobody seemed to mind that.

            After a long few hours, the tempo of the drums and chanting slowed suddenly, and Hellboy thought he saw the first stirrings of movement from Hecate. His hand went to the grip of the pistol, and his eyes locked on Hecate intently. The chants now seemed to be directed by Jacqueline instead of Domingue. “That’s odd.” Kate observed. “The chants are usually the responsibility of the male assistant to the priestess only.”

            Hellboy kept his hand firmly on the Samaritan. “Well, Mark was Jacqueline’s significant other. I’d say she has a vested interest... Besides, this isn’t exactly what I call the normal circumstances of a Voodoo ritual.” He said quietly, and was now quite sure he could see Hecate moving about slowly.

            The heat could have been one factor. He wasn’t bothered much by the heat himself, and neither was Liz. But he had to wonder how Kate, Abe, his father, and the rest of the agents were handling being packed into the cellblock like this. He also had to wonder how none of the participants had fainted yet either.

            It took the mere blink of an eye, but when Hecate’s head and human part of the naga body became suddenly visible; Hellboy immediately drew the Samaritan and took aim at Hecate’s head. “Red, wait.” Kate said, desperately trying to keep her voice curbed so as not to disturb the ceremony.

            “I’m not gonna shoot him yet.” Hellboy replied. “But Mark made me promise not to let Hecate loose, and to use any means necessary.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Liz and Abe standing in solidarity with him, ready to draw and fire. He also saw his father’s head droop down a little. He hated to disappoint his father this way, but sometimes all pacifism could accomplish was getting people dead... especially where it concerned wayward monsters and gods. No matter what could have been learned from Mark in future, having Hecate loose on the world in any way was not an option Hellboy wanted to consider.

            Inside the cell, the tempo of the drums changed again, and Jacqueline and the chorus of voices became more insistent. Hellboy made a mental note then and there to go to Haiti and learn Creole. It was irritating and disorienting to him to not know exactly what was going on.

            Hecate had propelled the human part of her body high above everyone else, the expression crossing what used to be Mark’s face was lordly and snide. Though there was a brief moment when Hecate and Hellboy’s eyes met and she saw quite clearly the pistol pointed at her. The wound Hellboy had inflicted two days ago was still visible and seemed to remind her to not lash out for fear of instant return to where she had come from... At least that’s what Hellboy hoped. He recalled that Mark had said Hecate had seen him as something of an investment. He wondered if she’d had the time to have any other human ‘investments’ as powerful as Mark walking around nowadays. From what he’d seen Mark do, he had to assume not.

            Hellboy won the stare down and Hecate looked away and down to her more immediate problem in the form of a very persistent Voodoo Mambo and her followers.

            “This is phenomenal... I think they’re calling down Damballa-Wedo, Baron Samedi, and Manman Brigitte all at the same time.” Kate said from behind him.

            “And that means?” Liz asked.

            “Damballa-Wedo is seen as a patriarchal Loa... An all father. And he is represented by the serpent.” Bruttenholm said, still seated patiently, leaning on his cane which held in front of him. The irony and appropriateness of that was not lost on Hellboy. “Baron Samedi is of the Guede family of Loa. Like Legba, and even Hecate herself, he stands at the cross roads, but in the context of people living and dying. He controls that. Based on the Irish St. Brigid, Manman Brigitte is a tough talking Loa of black magic and money... More importantly I think in this case though, she is Baron Samedi’s wife.”

            The dance, the drums and the chants were all at a fever pitch in terms of how loud they were, but they were also steady and regular. The worshipers in the room weren’t afraid of Hecate in the slightest apparently, and went about what they were doing as if this were a normal activity.

            Hellboy kept his aim steady when Hecate started to tremble at the shoulders. He did his level best to keep from running in and intervening. Every cell in his body told him that something was up, but because of his lack of experience with all of this, he didn’t know if it was for good or ill. He continued to hold steady, even when Hecate started to cry out, and then screamed outright. Once again she propelled herself upward into the ceiling of the cell, as if she’d been jumped from behind. This time though, she didn’t have anything buffering her head, neck and shoulders from hitting the concrete. And after it did, she collapsed in a heap with a thud that could be heard even over the drumming and chanting.

            Hecate was left in a convulsing mess on the floor, moving as if she were in seizure. When the serpentine tail started to move, Hellboy knew that he had to as well. It could kill people very quickly if the episode with the goat men had taught him anything. “Crap” He muttered and started walking into the cell.

            “Red, wait.” Kate repeated.

            “Just gotta keep Hecate calm, Katie... For all of our safety.” He called back and started to make his way though the crowd. This time he was a little less careful about people getting jostled around by him. It was for everyone’s greater safety after all.

            Surprisingly, no one questioned his presence or tried to get him to move back to the door. He found that others were already trying to do what he planned. They were holding the now contorted body of Hecate down as best they were able. Hellboy stepped in and pinned Hecate’s chest to the floor with his right hand. The Samaritan was still in his left, but momentarily pointed at the floor, and not Hecate’s head.

            Hecate’s eyes were rolled back and the whites stared up ghoulishly at Hellboy. The naga creature groaned and Hellboy noted that the voice was once again deep and masculine. The feminine aspect of Hecate seemed to be gone for the moment.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I have trod on eggshells about the use of Voodoo as a plot device in this story, I will make no apologies for the array of disgusting jokes that I find funny. Special thanks goes out to Dreaming Egypt who keeps me chuckling via text message. I'm keeping her... Anyways, if you get slapped and/or punched in the eye and/or ostracized from your social group if you repeat the following belly shakers, I take no blame. You should either get different friends or know better in the first place not to repeat them.

Chapter 16

 

            Hellboy briefly looked up at Marie, who stood over them. Jacqueline and Domingue were nowhere to be seen at the moment. Another attendant carried a few objects in her arms. “You can let him up now Mister Hellboy... We are in the presence of Baron Samedi.” Marie said and smiled at him.

            Hellboy complied, but very slowly. Though who ever it was in control, Mark or Baron Samedi, didn’t seem to mind, and himself rose up slowly from the floor to come even with Hellboy’s eyes. He looked very curious about the body he now inhabited, then shrugged, cracked his neck and grinned. Seeing that grin, Hellboy realized that it definitely wasn’t Mark in charge still. It wasn’t Mark’s subtle smirk, but rather a lurid grin.

            The attendant handed the creature sunglasses, a glass of rum, the scent of which was curious to Hellboy. Even from a bit of a distance, it smelled more like hot peppers than alcohol. He was then helped to light a cigar, and puffed away contentedly on it for a few moments. Hellboy secretly started getting a major jones for one of his own, but chose discretion in case that was in bad form.

            _Baron Samedi_ then addressed Marie in a language that wasn’t Creole, and was still foreign to Hellboy’s ears. Marie laughed in response. Apparently he’d said something funny. He then looked at Hellboy, eyes visible over the sunglasses which were set low on his nose. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked Hellboy curtly in accented English.

            “Name’s Hellboy.” Hellboy responded simply. He realized that he had a feeling of relief to know that a supernatural being didn’t know who he was, and hence address him by a name he didn’t feel was his.

            “Hellboy” Baron Samedi said and puffed on the cigar a few more times. “Hellboy” He said again and sipped at the glass of rum. “Alright Hellboy, answer a question for me... What’s brown and green and eats nuts?”

            “I... I have no idea.” Hellboy said, totally perplexed by the situation.

            “Gonorrhea” Baron Samedi answered for him. Hellboy’s overtired mind took a second to process that he’d been told a joke, and his jaw dropped a little. Then as he put joke and punch line together, in his ensuing guffaw he damn near dropped the Samaritan. Whoever this guy was who had Mark’s mind at the moment had sick sense of humour.

            Seeing as he hadn’t really laughed in days and even in the previous couple of weeks, it was like stretching a cramped muscle for him. But still a wonderful release of tension all the same. He was just calming himself when Baron Samedi spoke again.

            “What do you call four lepers in a hot bath?” He asked.

            “Oh, I know this one.” Hellboy replied. “Soup” Baron Samedi laughed long and loud, seemingly quite happy that Hellboy was game for his jokes. “I’ve got one for you.” Hellboy said quietly but was encouraged by the Baron’s nod. “A man and a woman were having sex in the middle of a dark forest. After about 15 minutes of it, the man finally gets up and says, “Damn, I wish I had a flashlight!” The woman says, “Me too, you've been eating grass for the past ten minutes.”.”

            There was a roar of laughter which for a moment sounded more like a roar than laughter, but soon there was a pattern to it, and Baron Samedi was holding his side, the cigar still carefully clasped between two fingers. Hellboy grinned, and had to admit that this was a hell of a lot better than fighting with Hecate.

            When Baron Samedi got a hold of himself, he spoke to Marie again in Creole. And while Hellboy could tell that they were talking about him, he could at least tell that it was probably complimentary.

            “Marie!” A voice called out. Immediately her attention turned to the left, where Domingue was writhing on the ground. Opposite the room of Domingue, Jacqueline had also collapsed to the floor and had several people around her.

            And that was when things got confusing for Hellboy again. Dominque continued to writhe about on the ground, and he became the focus of the room. Marie was kneeling next to him, close to his face, speaking with him. Jacqueline was being helped to her feet again, and she was also offered rum. She spoke to those around here in a much rougher voice than she had been before.

            Rum was poured in front of her, set on fire, and went up in a sudden flash on the concrete. That made Jacqueline smile at those around her. When she looked past them, her expression soured in an instant. She set her eyes on Baron Samedi, raised her hand, pointed at him and started verbally tearing him a new one with her gravelly voice as she walked over to him. He was clearly not intimidated by her and rose up a little higher on the naga body he inhabited, and started yelling and cursing right back... While the words were strange to Hellboy’s ears, the passion in them was recognizable and damn near palpable. Kate had said something about Baron Samedi’s wife... _A lover’s quarrel perhaps?_ He thought.

            He didn’t think it was serious until she hauled off and slapped Baron Samedi. Hellboy went for his pistol when Baron Samedi managed to grab a hold of one of Jacqueline’s wrists. One arm immobilized didn’t seem to discourage whoever it was in control of Jacqueline’s mind in the slightest. She wound up and hit him harder, knocking the sunglasses off his face, but remarkably, the cigar stayed put in his mouth. Hellboy was about to draw when a hand grabbed his upper arm. “Don’t Red.” Kate said firmly. “Just keep calm and let this play out.”

            “Let go of me Kate, he’ll kill her and not even mean to.” Hellboy said. His anger at being restrained rising.

            “Just stop and watch!” Kate shouted. It being such a rare thing for her to do, Hellboy listened. His left arm went slack and fell away from the grip of the Samaritan. “I’m fairly certain that Jacqueline has been possessed by Manman Brigitte... If that’s so, she’s the physical representation of the Baron Samedi’s wife. This is not our place to interfere.”

            So it was Brigitte, not Jacqueline who continued to struggle like a tigress against Baron Samedi. Hellboy felt that lingering headache start to turn into a full fledged migraine, if only because it was getting difficult to keep track of who was who. Hellboy was still intently watching Baron Samedi and Manman Brigitte, and had to hold himself back when he knocked her down to the floor, and held her there. Still Brigitte railed against him, and then scratched at his eyes fiercely.

            Baron Samedi roared in pain and finally relented, pulling away quickly. Blood started to trickle from around his eyes where the skin had been broken. Brigitte got back to her feet, eyes blazing with anger and looked ready to strike again. Then just as the tension was at its height, Baron Samedi wiped the blood away with his hand, and started laughing... And then Brigitte followed suit. The Baron finally tossed his cigar, opened his arms wide, and called out for Brigitte with a wide smile on his face.

            She beamed back at him and then threw herself into his embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck. There were soft words, kisses, laughter and the odd tear. Apparently husband and wife were fond of making up after a spat. Hellboy rolled his eyes and sighed, turned and backed off the now tender scene, with Kate close beside him. “Women” He muttered.

            “See, I told you.” Kate said only somewhat smugly.

            “Yeah, and now I’m glad you did.” Hellboy replied, figuring it was just easier to not argue the point. He was too tired for a meaningless squabble at the moment anyways. He rubbed above his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could smell the gun oil which had worked into his skin and did his best to ignore it. “What now?” He asked.

            “There’s still not much we can do.” Kate answered. “We just have to wait it out and see what the Loa can do for Mark. And if they can’t help we’ll have to go back to the drawing board.”

            “Or Plan Z” Hellboy muttered.

            “Pardon?” Kate asked.

            “Nothing, it’s not important.” Hellboy said.

            Marie stood like, and looked like a ring master or cavalry general, directing what appeared to still be chaos to Hellboy. She spoke to Baron Samedi and Manman Brigitte. And Kate explained to him that Damballah Wedo was most likely who had possessed Domingue. Everything was still noisy and disjointed, but from the solemn expressions on the faces of the people, serious business was being discussed.

            Hellboy still kept his eyes on Baron Samedi... He’d spent a couple of days watching for any sign of hostility from that body, and he wasn’t ready to let his guard down quite yet. They still weren’t in the clear by any means. An uncontrolled muscle spasm could take out several people in the cramped space of the cell... In his experience, while monsters knew their own strength, they didn’t care about the destruction they caused. So he could only imagine how someone who wasn’t used to that body could do with it and not mean to.

            Baron Samedi and Brigitte remained close, and exchanged soft whispers among themselves when they were not adding to the overall discussion. Both of them were smoking again, which Hellboy thought looked so strange for “Mark” to do... The guy wouldn’t even eat a high fat breakfast if he were in control. When this was all over with, and Mark was back to normal, he was going to have to start teasing him about being a health freak.

            Hellboy’s careful observation though led him to assume one thing though, Baron Samedi had taken Mark’s side it seemed, and was strongly pleading his case. Mark’s pre-existing affinity for the dead made it a logical conclusion in Hellboy’s mind. The Baron seemed to think that Mark had a purpose in this world, and that he should continue to exist in it.

            The arguments put forth by Marie and the Loa who were in their presence became heated and passionate, but after a particularly emotional speech from Baron Samedi, calm settled over the cell, and there were nods of agreement all around. Some kind of accord or conclusion had been reached.

            Hellboy’s attention had been so focused on Baron Samedi that he was a bit startled when Marie pointed to him and called out to him. Hellboy have his head a shake and looked at her. “Come here please.” She said. Hellboy exchanged a glance with Kate and Professor Bruttenholm, who both shrugged. He sighed and walked over close to them, avoiding the mass of people still crowded in to the cell as best as he could.

            “When the Loa take their leave, there is a chance that his goddess could return to his body. The only solution we have to ward her off for now is to remove the part of his body she has given him to cut their connection. Even if it’s only for a short time until something more permanent can be done.” Marie said. “The Loa say that burning would be the most spiritually cleansing.” She added. Hellboy nodded and then turned his head back towards the door.

            “Hey Liz, come here!” He called out, and then looked back at Marie and the Loa. “Resident fire starter... She can probably get the job done for you.”

            “Oh no, Red. That’s way too risky. I don’t have that kind of control and you know it.” Liz said as soon as she got close. Hellboy didn’t fail to notice Baron Samedi getting a blatant eyeful of Liz. “But... and this is a big but... Glen might. Despite his mental instability, he’s got a remarkable control over his abilities. It’s whether he’ll agree to it or not that’s the bone of contention.”

            “Then we’ll just have to convince him.” Hellboy said.

            “And if by we, you mean me don’t you?” Liz asked.

            “I ever tell you how damn smart you are, Liz?” He asked.

            “Only when you want something.” She replied dryly.

            “There is another problem. We believe that Hecate might have part of Mark’s soul hidden somewhere, and that’s why she can control him like she is now.” Marie said. “It’s only a small piece, and something he can function well enough without, but it is what binds him to her. He’ll never be free of her so long as she has it.”

            “Any ideas where that might be?” Hellboy asked.

            “No. It’s something that the Loa don’t know. The best they can assume is that it’s some place Mark would never go to look for it, seeing as he hasn’t tried to yet.” Marie said. Hellboy nodded again. That narrowed it down to only most of the world. “The good news is the Loa say they can restore him once all the pieces have been located; and that they will... for a price.”

            Hellboy sighed... He knew that this meant some kind of other servitude for Mark to probably endure. He could only hope that this would be better than being Hecate’s meat puppet.

            “Okay, that means I have to get to work on finding it then.” He half turned and then paused and looked at the strange sight of possessed humans and monster, and Voodoo mambo. He then said a soft, genuine “Thank you” to her and the Loa, and then walked to the door of the cell with Liz and Kate right on his heels.

            He stepped around the doorway when he got out, and was met with all the familiar faces of the men and women he worked with. He sighed again heavily and allowed himself to slump against the wall and finally close his eyes. The first time to ‘rest’ he’d had in days.

            The chatter and noise continued on around him, and Hellboy did his best to tune it out.

            “Red has exited the cell.” One of his fellow agents reported back to whomever it was that was observing them. He heard and felt another body lean against the wall next to him.

            “Got a migrane, Red?” Abe asked him.

            “You remember that time I got utterly pounded on by Roger’s ‘big brother’ the giant homunculus?” Hellboy asked.

            “Yes.”

            “It’s like that... only with more exhaustion.” Hellboy said.

            “You’ve been really good to Mark, you know that? I’ve seen you really get into cases before... But not like this.” Abe said.

            Hellboy opened his eyes, looked at his friend, and spoke very quietly so only Abe could hear him. “I’ve been thinking about that actually. The way I see it is, we fight monsters most of the time, despite none of us being normal ourselves. We’re freaks, but we’re not bloodthirsty monsters... The same goes for Mark. He’s not a monster. Freaky? Oh yeah. Crazy powerful? Yeah, that as well. But a monster? No. He’s still a man above all, and he doesn’t deserve to be left abandoned to the whims of monsters. I suppose it’s my way of treating others the way I hope I’d be treated should I come to the same state. I hope someone would fight for me too.” Hellboy said, and then rubbed his eyes. “Look, I think things should be okay in there for now. I gotta get some damn sleep. I can barely hold myself up.”

            “Go Red.” Abe said. “I’ll keep an eye here.”

            “Can you get Liz to go and talk to Glen about returning Mark’s ‘favour’ to him? She’ll know what I mean.”

            “I will.” Abe promised. Hellboy gave him his best ‘overtired investigator’ smile, and walked past his father, Liz, Kate, and the other agents and out of the cell block.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

            Hellboy slept for a solid sixteen hours, and when he finally dragged his carcass out of bed, treated himself to a long shower and getting himself cleaned up. He finally got shaved and his horns trimmed down for one, and that made him feel a lot better. He had the door to his bathroom open and the TV set to a station playing classic Warner Brother’s cartoons. It was one of those ‘normal amid chaos’ moments that he was prone to having, and as he brushed his teeth, he was thankful for every second of it.

            He was given his privacy until he emerged from his quarters dressed and ready to face the world again. He liberated breakfast from the kitchen for himself and then reported to Bruttenholm’s office as everybody he’d run into, including the kitchen staff, had told him that he was wanted there.

            Trevor Bruttenholm looked relieved to see Hellboy tap lightly on the door as he walked in, sipping again at a cup of coffee equivalent to the size of a Big Gulp. Jacqueline was standing in the room, quietly perusing the well appointed bookshelves.

            “Hello, sir.” Hellboy said. He set his coffee on the nearest flat surface and then flopped down in the oversized chair that had been placed there specifically for him.

            “Good morning.” Bruttenholm said, pulling up a dour smile. There was an aura of worry in the room, and Hellboy knew why. Somewhere in the wide world a goddess had a piece of Mark’s soul held hostage, and Hellboy aimed to find out where and retrieve it.

            “How’s Mark?” Hellboy asked, recovering his coffee.

            “Unconscious or incapacitated since you saw him last.” Bruttenholm said.

            “His body waits, free of Hecate for the moment, for the other piece of his soul.” Jacqueline said. Hellboy could tell that she was quite worried, but wasn’t going to become panicked about the situation.

            “And what about Glen? Has he agreed to help?” Hellboy asked.

            “No.” Bruttenholm said. “Liz has asked, I’ve asked, and Jacqueline has even introduced herself and asked. I hope that if we give him a day or two he’ll come to his senses.”

            “Respectfully sir, we don’t have a day or two.” Hellboy replied. “And we’ve got to figure out a way to narrow down our search area for that chunk of Mark’s soul.”

            “I am aware of that, son.” Bruttenholm said calmly. “If you have any insights into either problem, do feel free to share them with us.”

            Hellboy forced himself to take a breath, and tried to bring himself back to sixteen hours ago. There had been so much going on that his memories were a bit hazier than they should have been. He remembered the jokes he’d exchanged with Baron Samedi, but a lot of the last few days weren’t nearly so clear. But the conversation he’d had with Marie had given him the most details.

            “Details...” Hellboy muttered to himself.

            “What details?” Bruttenholm asked. Hellboy sipped at his coffee, the taste of it caused his brain to start to wake up and neurons to fire... So he was addicted... At least he wasn’t the harbinger of the apocalypse... Well not conclusively anyways.

            “I’m just trying to remember what Marie said to me.” Hellboy said, thinking of what she’d said while she told him about the state of Mark’s soul. _It’s a small piece, something he could function without._ He recalled and took another sip of the coffee.

            “I’ve got it.” Hellboy said. His voice sounded a lot sleepier than he’d intended. “She said it would be some place he’d never go in order to find it. All we gotta do is figure out where he’d never go.”

            “And do you have that as well?” Bruttenholm asked. His eyes were speculative, but Hellboy could see the pride he had in him. Hellboy sucked back more coffee.

            “Have I ever gone back to East Bromwich?” Hellboy asked.

            “No. Not yet.” Bruttenholm said, and started to get what Hellboy was talking about.

            “I say we check that funeral home where he and Glen grew up... or the spot where it once was anyways.”

            That afternoon Hellboy was on a chartered military cargo plane back to Texas with an isometric psychic, a few archeologists, and somebody who could operate a ground penetrating RADAR unit. After landing in El Paso, he was on a military truck for the three hour ride towards Marfa, Texas. Trust Mark and Glen to come from a place that already had inexplicable phenomena. Hellboy wondered if he would be able to get a glimpse of the Marfa Lights while he was down here. He didn’t plan on staying long though. He strictly wanted this to be an in and out kind of thing for Mark’s sake.

            The town itself had wide streets with hardly a soul on them in the mid-day heat. The buildings had old fashioned store fronts, and despite the modern touches, one would be hard pressed to think it was no longer the late 1800’s. They got directions from a starry-eyed waitress at a diner. Hellboy let his guard down somewhat. In small towns, folks were less likely to freak out because of their sense of subdued propriety. He tried to be quiet and charming, and though that wasn’t his strong suit, eventually won her over. She even let him have his slice of pie and coffee on the house.

            Best of all, her directions were easy. But in a town of only a couple of thousand people, it was much easier to find things. A vast vacant lot was just off the main street in the high end part of town. The part of town far enough away from the main street traffic where well to do ranchers and rich city people would all like to retire to.

            So the lot itself was an anomaly. The land was valuable and this space wouldn’t have been left fallow if there hadn’t been good reason to stay away. The grass and scrub were high, but the remains of extensive gardens toughed it out, including more than a few rosebushes which probably hadn’t bloomed in many years due to lack of proper watering. They had most likely returned to their rootstock anyways with their smaller, more fragrant flowers in order to survive in the West Texas desert.

            After a bit of kicking around, and a good distance into the knee and waist high grass, they found a crumbling foundation. It stretched a good long way across the property, and the building it once supported would have been large and impressive. Here and there in spots where the grass was tallest, the concrete still bore blackened smoke marks after all this time.

            But the one thing Hellboy noticed, that despite the heat of the day, were the birds. Every scraggy shrub and high spot rang with song. Despite knowing full well what had taken place here, it just didn’t seem natural for birds to be here if spooks were also in residence. Nature often couldn’t abide by the unnatural and vise versa. In the light of day, it looked like any other vacant lot, and the old roses and hardy native plants made it prettier than most.

            The team went to work and the isometric psychic started palming around while joking about walking on his hands. Normally Hellboy would have felt compelled to at least politely grin, but today he’d realized the guy’s voice sounded a lot like a particular cartoon character he couldn’t quite place and that was distracting him whenever the guy spoke... It had been a long couple of weeks. He was starting to feel it very much. On top of his game, he wasn’t... Yoda he thought like.

            Hellboy gave his head a shake and spoke up to the psychic in order to avoid him thinking he didn’t like him. “It works when you touch stuff, right? Why don’t you make it easier and just go barefoot?” He asked in his typical, practical way. But that was overtaken by a yawn. He gave up, and politely requested a coffee run.

            He hung out well away from the psychic and chewed on an unlit cigar absently. Unavoidably, they were starting to attract some attention from the natives though, and a couple of the agents more schooled and talented in the art of public relations went to keep them calm. The agents also started to collect the various stories from them about the dark history of the Callaway and Kane families... in particular the Kane family. There were murders and a rumour of a family curse that affected the entire bloodline. A curse sure would explain a lot of what had happened to Mark and Glen, though Hellboy had the thought that if anybody were to overcome or break it, it would be those two. If they could ever reconcile that is.

            Hellboy’s higher brain function seemed to return to him when the Styrofoam cup from the diner they’d just been at was handed to him. All things considered, the coffee was terrible, really, but he’d had a number of decades and growing up on military bases to get used to bad coffee and so he drank it.

            He kept away from the locals. He was in no mood to answer inane questions or pretend he gave a shit about spooks that supposedly haunted the place. He had work to do and something to look for. He walked through the grass to the rear of the foundation, where the back of the house and workrooms would have been. He knew from Mark’s vague descriptions that the workrooms had been in the basement at the back of the house... Soon he was standing over the very spot where all this weird shit started fifteen years ago.

            Hellboy once again mentally looked over the list of facts he knew about Mark. Clearly, he wasn’t scared of the dead, so by all rights the embalming rooms would hold little emotional response from him. He was about to walk away when he thought he felt something grab on to his ankle. He tried to dismiss it as getting caught in the long grass and move away. But whatever it was grabbed him again. This time Hellboy looked down.

            A very familiar hole was opening up in the earth, looking exactly like the one Mark had jumped into when they’d first met. Hellboy had just enough time to toss his coffee cup and mutter an expletive before the earth beneath his feet crumbled away and he was falling in complete darkness with no real concept of up or down.

            He breathed out a stream of curses all the way and prepared for a hard landing, probably on his head... But immediate impact never came. Instead as he fell, something wrapped around him. Whatever it was felt alive and scaly. The darkness was pitch and he couldn’t see a thing. When the scales started to tighten around his legs, he figured it couldn’t hurt to fight. His hands were still free, and he hauled off and hit the scales in front of him with his right. What he got in return was the odd clang of stone hitting metal. He reached out and touched with his left hand, and found that the scales felt cold and metallic. And even with the air rushing past his ears, he could hear the scales scraping on one another.

            They were still falling steadily in the dark, and he couldn’t tell a damn thing about where he was... Oh was he ever going to get ragged on about that in the paperwork. _It was dark_ just didn’t cut in the investigation biz.

            He wound up and punched the scales in front of him again, and supposed he managed to hit something vital and heard a screech from above him. That meant that the thing had a head and it was above him. It also meant that it could be hurt. Hellboy had few rules while in a fight for his life, but one of them entailed that if he was falling into a chasm towards pointy rocks or anything else, it was better to shoot first and ask questions later. So he managed to free his pistol from its holster, cocked it and fired.

            The resulting flash of the pistol gave Hellboy the briefest of glances at his assailant. It was definitely Hecate who had pulled him under. When it all went dark again, it seemed that Hellboy for once, had got in a lucky shot. Hecate shrieked in pain and the noise seemed to echo off of her metallic scales. The grip of her snake half got tighter on his legs and tail though.

            Hellboy grumbled a curse and fired the pistol into the scales which held him. There was another pained screech from Hecate, but it hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. Shrapnel flew up and dug into his hide, hitting his chest, arms and face, and making short work of his coat.

            The grip on him from Hecate loosened and fell away, but apparently she could see him in the dark, and her hands wrapped around his neck. Hellboy gasped for oxygen and fired the pistol again into what should have been her chest. He had to make it count as the revolver would soon be empty, and he wasn’t quite sure he could find extra ammo in his belt in the dark. She howled in pain and relinquished one hand on his throat. Hellboy became irritated. He was done screwing around. He wound up, and punched Hecate in the face full force with his right hand.

            His reward was being able to gasp air into his lungs, and then was once more in a free fall. He realized that a soft orange light was illuminating Hecate’s features from beneath them. Hecate clutched her chest, and Hellboy saw that the light was becoming brighter and brighter. He was also getting warmer, and caught the scent of a chemical fire burning. Hecate was screaming something at him that sounded like “His soul is mine”, but the air rushing past his ears deflected the sound of her gravelly voice away.

            Besides, new developments were coming to his attention. He looked down and realized that he was about to fall into the burning remains of a large house. Hellboy steeled himself for impact once again, and figured it was going to hurt. A lot. He tried to direct himself away from the house, but wherever it was he’d ended up didn’t seem to obey the laws of physics and aerodynamics, so impact it was.

            Hellboy thought he heard screaming as the crackling and roar of the blaze got closer.

            He was perfectly ready when he started crashing through several levels of the large wood frame house. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. A cross beam caught the shoulder of his coat and tore through his skin. He let out a few more loud curses, which were lost among the roar of the flames.

            He came to a sudden stop on a hot concrete floor, amid the stink of charred human flesh and the cool green coloured ghosts of angry spirits. He was immediately followed by the massive naga body of Hecate. It took her a moment to come to, but by that time Hellboy was already looking for an exit. He was also keeping an eye on the ghosts, who seemed quite surprised by their dropping in on their torment. They were so surprised that they didn’t know how to react to them.

            Hecate’s body went into spasm when she realized that the fire was heating her metallic scales very quickly. She screamed, and Hellboy realized that she was starting to cook inside her iron scales. He concentrated on making good his escape despite the pain he was in and trying to get breath back into his lungs. “I’ll always come back for him, Anung un Rama!” She screeched. “He’s mine! He was given to me, and I can use him as I see fit!”

            Hecate tried to strike out at him, but her body either from the rough landing or the heat, wouldn’t respond. Hellboy wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. He hauled his aching body up and hot footed it over to a wall. He used his left hand to hold on to a burning support beam and his right to punch a hole up through to the main floor of the house. He was just pulling himself up when once again Hecate grabbed him by his ankle. Hellboy looked down, his irritation apparent on his face.

            “Lady, gimme a break! Mark’s his own damn man! He doesn’t need you. He never needed you. Give it up already and leggo of my leg!” He shouted and kicked her hand away and pulled himself up. The splintered and charred floorboards tore at what was left of his coat, but he kept pulling himself up. And once he was there, the wide open front door was spitting waves of fire towards the outside of the house. Hellboy remained undaunted, and limped for the door. Somewhere he wondered if this had anything to do with finding the missing piece of Mark’s soul.

            He got his answer as he came out the door and down the porch steps. He saw clearly why Hecate, or at least her metal doppelganger, had wanted to get her hands on him. A tall, skinny kid with close cropped red hair stood just beyond the house. He seemed to want to be able to run towards the house, but an unseen force held him back. It took a moment for Hellboy to realize that the young teenager and the Mark he knew shared a face, separated by years and hard experience. Hellboy had to assume that watching the incident that had plagued Mark’s entire life couldn’t be a very good vacation for a piece of his soul. Trust Hecate to come up with this kind of torture for a ‘faithful’ servant.

            The boy; and Mark really would have been just a boy at the time of the fire, looked terrified of the burning house, of Hellboy approaching, of everything.

            “Mark?” Hellboy called as softly as the ambient noise would allow. The boy looked up at him, and immediately tried to wipe the tears on his face away. “Take it easy, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m gonna take you out of here.” Hellboy said.

            “But... My family’s in there.” The boy said. His voice was soft and accented by a drawl. “I’ve been trying to get in... And I can’t... And...” He started to stammer and Hellboy put his left hand on the young Mark’s shoulder.

            “They’re not in there anymore, Mark. All that’s left in there is old bones and ghosts... I promise things will be better if you come with me.” Hellboy said.

            “Who are you? What are you?” Mark asked.

            “Your friend if you’ll let me... You come with me kid, and I promise your life is going to start getting a lot better from here on out.” Hellboy replied. His memories of his first encounters with Abe and Liz started to surface. He tried his hardest to wear the same facial expression and body language. After all it had worked with them. Then slowly, oh so slowly, Mark let Hellboy turn him away from the vision of the funeral home engulfed in flames. A point of light appeared in the distance, and Hellboy figured that had to be as good as sign as any.

            As they walked, the light seemed to reach out to them. It got closer and closer until it eventually swallowed them up, taking out of the dark horrific scene.

            The next thing that Hellboy was aware of was bright sunshine and grass under his hooves. He also realized that Mark was no longer with him, but instead he held a cut yellow rose in his left hand. Looking around him, he saw the back of a large white house on his right, and large work shed off to his left. Between the two were well tended gardens. The house was grand, and Hellboy took a moment to admire it, only to realize that the two storey structure must have been the Callaway Funeral Home. He turned around and saw a tall, lean blonde woman in a sun dress tending to one of the flower beds. She looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

            “Hello” She said in a crisp, cheery voice.

            “Hi” Hellboy replied, showing his slight confusion at the change in scenery. Though he quickly took into account and appreciated the fact that this place seemed a lot nicer than most of the places he fell or wandered into.

            The woman walked over to him, her sun dress caught in a gentle breeze. Her smile was kind and genuine, which was nothing at all like the crazed grins Hellboy had become used to seeing on ghosts, goddesses, conspiratorial Nazis and the like. “Do I know you?” Hellboy asked her.

            “No, but I believe you know my sons.” The woman said. She was close enough now that Hellboy could see her eyes. They were the same colour as Mark’s... That sage green only seen in very blond blondes and red heads... So Mark took after his mother.

            “You must be Susanna Callaway.” Hellboy said. This wasn’t the first ghost he’d met, and wouldn’t be the last, but she had to be at the top of the list for overall pleasantness.

            “Yes, I am.” She said. Hellboy took a look around him again and whistled low, admiring the house and its well kept gardens.

            “Beautiful place it was.” He said.

            “Yes, it was.” She replied, apparently well aware that both she and it were no longer around on the mortal plane. “I want to thank you for helping my boys... Nobody else has, and it hasn’t been easy on them.”

            “Helping people is my job, ma’am... But I like to think I’m getting to be friends with Mark. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I wasn’t willing to help him, especially given my areas of expertise.” He said. Susanna Callaway laughed. It was a brilliant, clear laugh with no touch of malice in it.

            “Mrs. Callaway, what are you up to?” A new voice said. Hellboy turned his head and saw a broad shouldered man standing in the doorway of the workshop. He wore a button down shirt that was anything but. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and he had his top three buttons undone. There was sawdust in his auburn hair.

            “Being neighbourly, Mr. Callaway. You might like to try it some time.” She said. She was still wearing that same sweet smile. The man joined them in introductions and small talk. Hellboy discovered the couple called one another Mr. Callaway and Mrs. Callaway like other couples called their significant other ‘honey’ or ‘darling’. It was loving and familiar and at the same time conveyed a deep level of respect for the other. Hellboy thought of it as similar to how he addressed his father as ‘sir’.

            The chit chat hit a low point quickly, and Hellboy looked at the yellow rose he held and got down to business. He was still technically investigating, and it wouldn’t look good to get back from this odd experience without any answers. Susanna was immediately aware of the rose that Hellboy held, and reached her hand out, as if wanting to take it and cradle it, then pulled her hand back. “Thank you” She said again.

            “Like I said, it’s all part of the job... And I have to assume there’s a reason why I ended up here.” Hellboy said

            “People rarely end up here by accident.” Mr. Callaway agreed.

            “No argument there... Look, I came here looking for a piece of Mark’s soul. Please tell me that you’re able to confirm this is it.” Hellboy said, holding up the rose. Susanna’s hand reached out and her face finally showed a deep sadness that she’d kept well covered. She shied at actually touching the bloom.

            “Yes, that’s him... Please, guard it well. Get it back to him.” There was a touch of desperation in her voice.

            “Of course I will.” Hellboy said. “I promise you that.”

            “Hecate... I wish I’d taught that boy more about everything. He was getting to an age where he should have been learning it, and I hesitated to teach him. He was so smart already, he didn’t need anymore confidence. It would have made him egotistical. But I should have taught him _something_. I should have warned him.” She said. Randall Callaway put a hand on his wife’s upper arm.

            “Susanna” He said. He appeared to be getting her attention to draw her away from her grief. He was calm and controlled, and clearly very much concerned for his wife. He moved around in behind her, and put his other hand on her shoulder, as if bracing her against her sorrow. He was a tough man, and wouldn’t molly-coddle her, but he would give her all the support she needed. Hellboy found this strangely admirable, and thought it all went back to that deep level of respect they seemed to have for one another. She took a breath, and then looked up at Hellboy’s eyes. Her smile slowly returned, and hope was in her eyes.

            “You’ll look after my sons?” She asked. She sounded like she was joking, but Hellboy knew she wasn’t.

            “I’ll do my best ma’am... But they’re pretty stubborn.” Hellboy replied.

            “I’ll take that.” She said, still smiling. Susanna Callaway was indeed a beautiful woman, and her smile was contagious. Though Hellboy was rare to smile, he found himself returning it.

            “So, how do I get back to where I came from? Do I click my heels together or what?” He asked.

            “You’re already headed there. Good luck.” Susanna said.

            The scene started to fade around him, and Hellboy tucked the rose into his right hand and closed it into a fist. He figured it was as safe there as any place.

            The ether he was pulled into was dark and immediately there was pressure on him from all sides. It felt as if someone was pushing two sand dunes against him. There was the slightest point of light above him, and then he realized that this is what Mark must have experienced when they’d first met. He recalled Mark saying how exhausted he’d been at this point... But Hellboy knew that while Mark was plenty tough even before his supernatural abilities, he didn’t have Hellboy’s durability. He managed to reach up and start pounding earth away with his right fist, and moving his body into the space he created, slowly clawing his way up.

            The soil started to loosen ever so slowly, and Hellboy could move about more freely. The sandy soil was in his eyes, even though he was trying to keep them mostly closed, as well as his nose mouth, and parts of him he didn’t want to even think about cleaning. He knew which way was up, and hell or high water he was headed there.

            His left hand broke the surface of the earth, and he felt the heat of the sun on it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for that final pull on his ankle or tail dragging him back down. But nothing came as he braced his right hand against the earth and pushed himself up and breaking the surface into the sunshine.

            Hellboy was pretty well blinded from the soil, but he was fairly certain it was Abe’s hand that grabbed his and started to pull the rest of him up. Only Abe’s hand would be that cool and clammy in desert air... So it had to be him. Hellboy coughed several times and gasped in breath. He allowed himself a moment to rest, which Abe gave him. Somebody else had tilted his head back, and shaded his face with their body while they poured clear water over his face, paying particular attention to his eyes. He managed to open them and saw Liz, Abe, and Kate all standing over him.

            “Hey, how’s it going?” Hellboy asked, trying to sound casual.

            “You’ve been gone for a week, and you ask how it’s going? Typical.” Liz said dryly and rolled her eyes.

            “Well, it sure didn’t feel like a week from my perspective.” Hellboy replied.

            “Really, you’re going to have to write an in depth report about that.” Kate said.

            “Great.” Hellboy muttered.

            “Come on Red let’s get you out of here.” Abe said, and finished helping Hellboy up from the earth. Hellboy knelt on the ground for sometime breathing heavily, but eventually held up his right hand, and opened it.

            “What a beautiful rose.” Kate said.

            “Yeah, ain’t it?” Hellboy agreed with a smile.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

            They all had a good long chuckle about the pun of the rose, which had been placed in an empty plastic soda bottle filled with water for the flight home, and were already planning on teasing Mark mercilessly about it. They did this to cover up the news that Mark had been switched over to life support systems and seemed to be losing the battle to cling to life. The docs and Abe suspected that with Hecate finally well and gone, Mark’s physiology couldn’t support the naga body she’d left him in.

            The humour also helped divert from Hellboy’s angry bark of “What the hell do you mean he said no?!” when he asked about Glen helping them out with the aforementioned naga part of Mark. Liz had calmed him, and assured him that they’d try again as soon as they got home. The moment had diffused when Liz had snapped a picture of Hellboy sitting by the window, carefully holding the bottle with the rose in it.

            “Pretty as a picture.” She said. Hellboy rolled his eyes.

            “Yeah, just like Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.” He replied with a smirk.

            “Well, it is all in the eye of the beholder and all that.” Abe said from the row of seats beside them. Hellboy gave him a long suffering look, and then focused back on the window.

            Hellboy wasted no time as soon as he was back on the B.P.R.D. grounds. He and the bottle with the rose made for the basement. He’d shed the tattered remains of his coat long ago, but he was still plenty dirty. He had the passing thought that it would lend itself to the effect of what he wanted to accomplish.

            Everyone had dispersed after getting back, so nobody knew what Hellboy was getting up to. Once in the area with the holding cells, he went in briefly to see Mark. His face looked gaunt and pale, and there were medical staff monitoring him constantly. Saline and other fluids were being pumped into him by several different sources. Truth be told, Mark looked dead already. It was only the steady blip of the heart rate monitor that told him different.

            The sight got Hellboy just angry enough. He left and went across to where Glen was still being held. He unlocked the door to see that they’d given Glen a few readily disposable creature comforts in the form of a cot, a chair, blankets, etc. Still these human touches didn’t distract Hellboy from his purpose. He set the bottle with the rose down near the doorway as he entered the room.

            Glen gave him a sour look as their eyes met. “What do you want?” Glen grumbled.

            “You and I need to have a little chat.” Hellboy said, and loomed over where Glen sat. “I need your help, and I’m sick of everybody politely babying you.”

            “Oh that’s very motivating.” Glen said sarcastically. “Way to get on my good side.” Hellboy did not hesitate as he wound up and socked Glen in the eye with his left hand. It sent Glen spilling onto the floor, and the chair was smashed to pieces.

            “What the hell is wrong with you?” Hellboy shouted. “You should be grateful that Mark found a way to help you, and instead you’re sitting here like a whiney kid who’s had his feelings hurt. You might have deep rooted psychological issues, but you really, and I mean really, need to man the hell up.” Hellboy wound up for another punch, and was so surprised when Glen didn’t flinch that he pulled the blow at the last second. Physical violence clearly was not the way to get through to Glen. He’d have to engage his mind instead.

            “I bet you’ve had a lot of people think you’re stupid or impaired in some way because of how you look.” Hellboy said. His tone was still harsh. “But guess what? Nobody here gives a rat’s ass about what you look like or how tragic your history is. We’re all freaks with pasts that’d make you piss your pants. This is the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. Fucked up is what we do around here. We eat it for breakfast. You sitting here, moping in silence is not winning you any votes of confidence about you not being a retard. Moving the hell on is the only way for you to get out of here. The rest of us can conduct ourselves like responsible adults. What’s keeping you from doing the same?”

            “Hitting me is being a responsible adult?” Glen asked sarcastically. “Did Mark ask you to do that?” Hellboy sneered and had to keep himself from hitting Glen with the full force of his right hand.

            “Mark is dying, Glen. Have they told you that yet? If you don’t agree to help us out, you’re going to lose him forever. And do I even have to mention that he’s probably the only person in this world who thinks you’re worth anything? So grow up, man up, or get the hell out of here.” Hellboy said and pointed to the still wide open door to the cell. Glen looked to the door, and then back to Hellboy. “Go on, nobody’s going to stop you. Prove to me that you’re really stupid enough to walk away from your brother, the man who’s salvaged your pathetic little existence... But you go ahead and walk out of here with your skin. Just remember you’ll be leaving your soul to rot, and you really will be all alone. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

            Glen glared up at Hellboy, but couldn’t seem to make his body move. The eye that hadn’t been hit was wide open and the hair had fallen away from his face. The scars were apparent, and nobody would ever mistake Glen for being good looking because of them. Yellow eyes met Glen’s mismatched brown and blue (which was already starting to show the evidence of Hellboy’s blow), and finally Glen’s jilted attitude bent just a little.

            “How bad is he?” Glen murmured.

            “Like I said, he’s dying. The docs are talking about it being merciful to remove life support at this point.” Hellboy answered. Glen’s eyes fell to the floor.

            “Okay” Glen said.

            “Okay what? Okay that he dies?” Hellboy pressed.

            “No, I mean I’ll help... And ya know what? Fuck you.” Glen looked far more irritated than in pain despite his eye starting to swell shut. Hellboy’s expression immediately changed to a more pleasant demeanor. He offered his left hand for Glen to take and he even sounded friendly when he spoke after helping Glen to his feet.

            “Yeah, fuck you too.” Hellboy said and slapped Glen’s shoulder in a brotherly way, turned, picked up the rose and left the cell and leaving the door still standing wide open.

            Glen was bewildered for a moment and then found his feet. He staggered up and out of the door of the cell and called after Hellboy. “Where are you going?”

            “What’s it look like? I need a shower.” Hellboy replied.

            “Could you send Miss Sherman down? I’ll need to speak with her before I do this.” Glen said.

            “I got a better idea. How about you come up and talk to her? And maybe we can get you outside for a little bit. You’re so pale I’m starting to worry about rickets.” Hellboy said, and started walking for the door of the cellblock. “How the two of you could grow up in the desert and not have a permanent tan is beyond me.” Hellboy opened the door, walked through, and held it for Glen who walked through carefully, as if he were waiting for a trap to spring. He took a long look around him while Hellboy closed the door firmly again and saw to it that it was locked.

            “Well, I did spend months in a hospital room after the fire.” Glen said. He was quiet as if his mind were on autopilot as he followed Hellboy.

            “That’s a good point.” Hellboy replied. “What were you doing before Paul rounded you up for his little revenge tour?”

            “Working as a night security guard. The job was easy and let me be alone most of the time.” Glen said.

            “No wonder you’re so standoffish. I thought I was bad for it, but you’ve got the personality of the lovechild of two skunks and a porcupine.” Hellboy said. He wasn’t facing Glen, so he couldn’t be sure if the noise he made in response was laughter. He deliberately looked over at him and saw the last remains of a smirk on his face. “Ah ha, there is a sense of humour in there. We might turn you into a human being yet.”

            They found Liz making a meal for herself after having had her own shower. Her hair was still damp, and she was dressed down and looking very comfortable. And while she looked surprised to see Glen out and about with Hellboy, she wasn’t concerned, knowing that he usually had his reasons for doing anything. “Hello.” She said, and wasn’t trying to cover up her surprise.

            “Hey Liz, good news. Glen’s agreed to help us out. I’m gonna get a shower and go round everybody up. Glen said he wanted to talk to you, and he might need an icepack.” Hellboy said, and then quickly left the two of them alone in the kitchen. Glen stood looking a bit lost at suddenly being able to move around at his own will. Liz sighed and already knowing how painfully shy Glen was, started to bring him back into reality. Such as it was around the Bureau.

            “So, he convinced you did he? Can I get you some ice for that shiner?” She asked.

            “It doesn’t hurt that bad.” Glen replied. Liz rolled her eyes and smiled.

            “Men” She muttered and went for the freezer and pulled out an ice cube tray. “Sit down. I’ll get you some ice. Are you hungry?”

            “Not really” Glen said and sat at the table as requested.

            “I’ll grab you something to eat too.” She said, and handed him a thin tea towel with half a dozen ice cubes in it. Glen dutifully put them to his swelling eye, and sat in silence while Liz moved efficiently around the kitchen.

            What Glen didn’t realize is how thankful he could be for a bowl of reheated soup and a plastic wrapped premade sandwich until Liz set it unceremoniously in front of him. He was glad of the makeshift icepack covering part of his face, as he wasn’t sure how to take a kindness bestowed upon him anymore. He’d scraped by on his own for so long now that this was foreign to him. He thanked her, as the manners his mother long ago instilled in him surfaced and told him to do. Liz sat across the table from him and started in on her own meal. “What is that you wanted to talk to me about?” She asked after taking a few bites.

            “I’m gonna need you as a touchstone. Just something to focus on, ya know?” Glen said. “I can manipulate a flame down to a cutting torch kind of heat, but it requires a lot of quiet and concentration... I know you probably think you’re out of control sometimes, Liz, but you’re not. And I’m going to need your level headed calmness.” He said.

            “I’ll do my best, Glen. How do you focus it like that?” Liz asked.

            The word had obviously spread about Hellboy springing Glen, as Professor Bruttenholm filed into the kitchen as quietly as he was able, and put the kettle on the stove. He was followed minutes later by Abe and Kate.

            “Lots of practice. Not all of my scars come from the house fire.” Glen replied. Bruttenholm took a chair while he waited on the kettle.

            “I’ll state here, that while Hellboy’s method might have been questionable, I’m glad my son was able to convince you to help your brother. Mark will be able to help a lot of people if he gets back to himself.” Bruttenholm said. He had his cane held out in front of his body, and looked rather stately to Glen’s eyes.

            “The eye doesn’t hurt that bad, really.” Glen said and set the icepack down on the table, trying to save some of his masculinity, and instead focused on the food in front of him. “And I suppose I needed a wake up call anyway. He’s got a way of getting a body’s attention.”

            “Certainly not the first time I’ve been told that.” Bruttenholm agreed and smiled.

            A much cleaner Hellboy reappeared in the kitchen with Jacqueline in tow. This was exactly the second time Glen had laid eyes on her. The first time she’d politely asked for his help and he’d refused. She’d been far too proud to beg, merely reminded him of what he’d be losing if he remained obstinate, and then she’d left. She’d been quite peaceful and calm while she’d spoken to him and even now looked at Glen with no animosity in her expression.

            Liz was focused on Hellboy. It appeared he’d entered one of his tireless working modes now that he’d been allowed to clean up, and looked ready for anything. She knew he’d be seeing the end of another one of his strange adventures, and this time, it might end up in the vicinity of happy. Hellboy appeared to be eager to get things rolling, but he managed to patiently wait for Liz and Glen to finish eating, and for Bruttenholm to finish his tea. It was Bruttenholm who finally gave the nod for everyone to get going after he’d rinsed his mug in the sink.

            On the way out of the kitchen, Hellboy caught Glen’s gaze. “Sorry about the shiner.” Hellboy said. Glen rolled his still visible brown eye and shrugged.

            “I might explode from what you’ve just talked me into. If that happens, a shiner isn’t gonna be big on my worry list.” Glen said, and fell into step beside Liz.

            Hellboy was sure the romantic in his soul wanted to see some kind of tension between Liz and Glen, but there really wasn’t any. Hellboy was sure that Glen could see that Liz was an attractive woman, but he didn’t seem interested. He didn’t seem to be gay either. When he thought about it more in depth, Glen didn’t seem attracted to anyone or anything. Perhaps he’d meant what he’d said about wanting to be left alone.

            Hellboy walked beside the stunningly beautiful Jacqueline who’d remained at the Bureau while Hellboy had gone A.W.O.L. She’d trusted Hellboy implicitly to come back with the remaining piece of Mark’s soul, but still had almost broken down in tears when Hellboy had come to her only minutes ago after his quick shower, yellow rose in hand.

            Unlike the hesitant Susanna Callaway, Jacqueline had instantly picked the flower out of Hellboy’s hand and brought it to her nose and smiled while she wiped away tears. She must have thanked him a hundred times between the living quarters and the kitchen, her hand on his left arm the whole time. Even now, she was unhesitant to be in close quarters with Hellboy, and he had to assume that was because she was used to being around the already larger than life Mark.

            The cell where Mark lay unconscious was silent save for the beep and hum of medical devices. Mark still looked dead, but the rose didn’t. Its petals unfolded before their eyes into full bloom upon entering the room. Glen walked over to Mark, cautious and wary of his still and ashen form. He reached out and touched Mark’s shoulder tentatively, and getting no response seemed to more fully accept that Mark was indeed barely clinging to life as Hellboy had said he was. His face still showed his internal conflict about how he felt where it concerned his long lost brother. Glen briefly glanced up and made fleeting eye contact with Hellboy, and his face grew stern and solemn as he looked back down at his brother.

            “Everybody but Miss Sherman should step outside. Close the door and turn off the damn oxygen you’re feeding him.” Glen said.

            “I’m not going anywhere.” Hellboy stated.

            “Yeah, but that pretty vessel for the missing piece of his soul which you’ve been guarding like so many Dobermans, is far from fire retardant. I suggest you take it outside in order to keep it safe. Leaving it in here where I may go off, and not mean to, isn’t a good idea.” Glen reasoned. “I’m pretty good, but I ain’t perfect.”

            Hellboy was about to retort when the shared look that both Liz and Jacqueline gave him caught his eye. It told him that he’d be better off not to argue this logic. “We can have monitors set up in the hallway.” Kate suggested and Hellboy nodded in agreement.

            “Okay” Hellboy said. “Take care of him.”

            “I will. I said I would.” Glen said.

            “I was talking to Liz.” Hellboy said and gave her a wink. Liz rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated smile.

            “Get out.” She said.

            Hellboy paced as the door was shut and sealed, and a monitor was set up near it to carry the closed circuit signal. But when the image came up on the screen, Hellboy became very still. Glen and Liz were perched on either side of Mark, just below where the human half of him ended. When Glen was sure that the source of oxygen had been cut, flames emerged from his fingertips. They were orange and large at first, and then Hellboy saw what Liz had described earlier as Glen’s superior control of his pyrokinesis.

            The flames formed into one, and then started to become smaller but more intense. Soon the single tongue of fire was blue and white and Glen sank it into Mark’s flesh. It all required a level of concentration and willingness to experiment with his power that must have gotten himself burned several times by now. It also probably required something of an unacknowledged masochistic streak. Hellboy secretly hoped that Liz would never be compelled to try such things for herself. She had enough to deal with, and certainly didn’t need any physical scars over the mental ones.

            Liz stayed still on the other side of Mark, keeping her eyes on Glen, but started to rub mint gel under her nose to handle the smell of cooking flesh. Mark lay comatose and Hellboy had to hope that he was still breathing despite being removed from life support. Hellboy was aware of Jacqueline standing close to him, looking worried but remaining calm. “Here” Hellboy said, and handed her the rose again to give her something else to concentrate on. She took it and held it to her nose, but watched the screen as intensely as everyone else was.

            It didn’t take long for the gore to start. However, there was a lot less blood to deal with because of the cauterizing Glen’s fire caused. That was fine as far as Liz was concerned. She flinched though when Glen reached his hand down past the scales into Mark’s body and tore away a strip of flesh. Scales, fat and muscle came away, and Glen’s eyes met Liz’s for a moment. He knew that they would both be looking a bit green around the gills, if Abe would pardon the pun.

            “Now you see why I said no before.” Glen observed.

            “Yeah” Liz replied. She wished silently that Glen hadn’t spoken. It made what she was witnessing reality, and despite all the ectoplasm and general gooiness that B.P.R.D. life got her into, she could usually distance her mind from it because she was usually so focused on surviving. Here there was little threat to her life and it was oh so real and that much worse. She rubbed more of the mint gel under her nose for what little help it provided. To the best of her knowledge all it had ever done was given her an aversion to Tic Tacs, gum, and chocolate-mint flavoured ice cream. She had once loved the stuff too.

            Glen went back to work, burning off small pieces at a time until he worked out where Mark’s legs were inside of the naga body. He worked as efficiently as he could and after a time, the structure of the right leg was visible. He’d been very careful not to burn right down to Mark’s skin though, and a strange layer of burnt and blackened fatty and connective tissue clung to Mark’s legs.

            Glen stayed quiet, having realized that speaking to Liz had made her uncomfortable. It seemed like hours passed while Glen slowly cut away, and the only break he took was to switch sides with Liz. During the pause he walked over to an unoccupied corner of the cell and vomited on the floor, and then leaned on the wall for a few moments. He took long, slow breaths and shook his head a few times, and then settled back into his gruesome work without a word. Hellboy had to feel that his speech had really gotten through to Glen, as what he was seeing wasn’t pleasant, and to be the one actually playing untrained surgeon had to be about a million times worse.

            Hellboy hadn’t looked at anything but the monitor and wasn’t quite sure where everyone else was save for Jacqueline. She was still next to him, holding the rose carefully. She held it rock steady even when Glen had cut a good way down the left side of the naga body, reached up to Mark’s waist and pulled. The result of which freed most of Mark’s other leg. Glen stood back for a moment, heaving breath in and out of his body. His left hand was still engulfed in concentrated blue flame and hung carefully away from himself, knowing that a flame this intense would burn his own flesh if he wasn’t cautious.

            Glen could feel a dull ache all over his body. He was approaching total exhaustion. This was the longest he’d ever attempted to do this, and it was certainly starting to show. His vision was slightly hazy and he felt unsteady on his feet. Still, he was determined to finish, and he knew well that it was the only task he’d set for himself since he’d finished high school.

            He thought about Mark and how he didn’t even have that. Glen had been far from popular in school, even though he’d torn up the gridiron, but Mark hadn’t even had that one shred of normal life after the fire. He’d been pulled away from everything familiar by Paul...

            Glen got in close to Mark again, thinking about empathy and how until this very moment, he wasn’t sure he’d ever had any. He took another deep breath and started cutting again, not realizing that Elizabeth Sherman was giving him the barest of smiles in her admiration of his determined stance.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.G. Wodehouse ate my brain awhile back. All apologies to him for this.

Chapter 19

 

            Glen promptly passed out when he finished. Liz waved everybody into the cell and medics started looking after him, elevating his legs, and even going so far as to use smelling salts to bring him around. He sat up coughing and sputtering and looking around for Liz. Seeing she was close he remained calm for what the medical crew had to do.

            Another set of white coats were at Mark, pulling the rest of the rubbery flesh away from his legs while Abe and Kate made a few fussy noises about preservation of specimens for future study. “There’s quite a lot here to choose from.” One of the doctors tried to reason dryly.

            “Yes,” Abe agreed, as carefully started poking around with one of the last pieces to fall to the floor. “But interested parties want to know how Mark’s nervous system could be connected to naga body while his own was still under it.”

            Now Hellboy had seen plenty of gross, gooey things in his time, but was glad to focus on Mark and see him once again breathing steadily on his own and some colour rapidly returning to his face. He looked like he was just sleeping peacefully now.

            The medics and researchers photographed most every inch of Mark and the discussion started about how best to preserve the naga tail for further investigation. Hellboy kept his attention on the ‘happy couple’ instead. Jacqueline was preparing a ritual around Mark, the rose was out of the plastic bottle and held between her teeth like tango dancer would. She laid out various items and lit candles. She pulled out of bag of fine grain sand and drew a veve on the floor, advising the medical staff to be careful of it until she got started.

            Jacqueline stayed close to Mark, and eventually started to chant and sing holding the rose carefully in her hand. It was now in brilliant full bloom, top heavy with the weight of its petals. Hellboy mused for a moment, that perhaps the piece of Mark’s soul hadn’t been so small after all. This ritual was subdued and well prepared, and didn’t take nearly as long as the first. Hellboy felt like the floor beneath his feet was vibrating with gathering energy. It didn’t have a malevolent feel to it; he could just tell that something was going on that he couldn’t see or name. It ended with the simple act of Jacqueline holding the rose under Mark’s nose and laying it against his mouth...

            Hellboy had never seen somebody look so surprised to wake up. Mark came to violently with the same wild look in his eyes that Hellboy had seen after he’d clawed his way up from his parent’s graves back in Texas. They were searching and desperate until they locked on Jacqueline who sat patiently at his side. She reached up and stroked his cheek and Mark let out a sigh of relief. Mark reached for her in the same way a soldier coming home from war reached for a lover or wife. He held her close and his repeating of her name was lost to ragged gasps as he tried to contain his emotion. Jacqueline for her part smoothed Mark’s hair and started whispering endearments in French into his ear.

            Mark closed his eyes and relaxed at the sound of Jacqueline’s smooth voice, and when he did find his voice, it was little more than a whisper. “I never thought I’d see you again. Thank you, love. Je t’amie. Je t’adore. Merci mon amore. Oh god, I never thought I’d see you again. I thought I lost you.” He murmured. “Thank you. I thought I lost you. Thank you.” He repeated. Jacqueline silenced him with a soft kiss on the lips and held him firmly against her.

            “Well whattaya know? A happy ending.” Hellboy said quietly to himself and smiled. Liz overheard him from where she stood near Glen, and smiled back at him.

            It was then that Hellboy found a hole in the wall of medical and research staff and stood next to the reunited lovers. “Hey buddy, you look like shit.” He said softly.

            “As long as I look like I feel.” Mark murmured in reply, his eyes still locked on Jacqueline’s face.

            “Pay him no mind.” Jacqueline said gently. “You certainly look better than you did.”

            “Well that wasn’t hard.” Hellboy said glibly. His instinct to crack wise when things were once again okay and the ass kicking was over with had kicked in.

            With considerable effort, Mark held up his left hand and Hellboy bent at the waist to take it and shake it. “Thank you.” Mark said. He’d momentarily taken his gaze from Jacqueline. “Thank you. For everything.”

            “I told you, it’s what friends do.” Hellboy said. He was trying to be casual and let the handshake go.

            “It’s nice to have friends. I’ll have to keep it up.” Mark was picking up on that same wisecracking instinct it seemed.

            “I’ll see to it that you do.” Hellboy offered. “Besides, you never know when I’m going to need a place to crash in New Orleans.”

            “I’ll keep some beer cold in the fridge for you.” Mark said, and then sighed and relaxed.

            But endings are rarely storybook, especially when people knew Hellboy. Snags arose in the days to come in the form of Glen and Mark showing no interest in speaking to each other. This was justified by both parties inescapable desire for sleep. Once Glen had recovered enough and had seen Mark grasping on to Jacqueline, he’d staggered out of the room and went to sleep for three full days. He could be roused for food, but didn’t seem to have much interest in it. Though he would eat when Liz asked him, but more to shut her up than to please her. They’d set Glen up in one of the rooms used by live in agents and he’d seemed content to stay there once he’d figured out how comfortable the mattress was. That point even trumped the fact he still had a guard at the door 24-7. Lethargy could only be an excuse for so long though in Hellboy’s opinion and he started contemplating how to get the two of them talking.

            Mark was awfully quiet for those first days as well. While awake he mostly let Jacqueline hold his hand, their fingers entwined. Hellboy took to visiting them both for a few hours a day under the guise of ‘dreaded research’, but everyone knew that was yet another valiant effort to avoid paperwork.

            Bruttenholm, Abe and Liz coerced him into it by turns, all of them trying to make him think it was his idea in the first place. Hellboy saw through this, but let them think the technique worked in case he really needed to be obstinate at a later date. But everyone in the Bureau who had contact with Hellboy could see he was quickly getting restless and in need of a new case to focus his attention on. A bored Hellboy was prone to fits of ordering copious amounts of beer and trying new and exotic arrangements for his stereo equipment for optimal performance while watching pay-per-view.

            Hellboy was to the point of physically forcing Glen into the same room as Mark when the next distraction came along and he was off to investigate a haunting. He left in an optimistic mood though. Mark had cracked no less than five one liners while they ate lunch with Jacqueline. He was apparently thrilled that they’d at last let him out of bed to use the can. “ ‘Cause, ya know, ya gotta have goals.” Mark had observed wryly once again. Hellboy had mused on how different goals were in Mark’s world compared to most people and grinned a little about it.

            Hellboy had wanted to ask Mark how he truly felt now. He wanted to know if he really felt whole and free, but felt that the question was too personal for a man who’d had no privacy for much of his life. Perhaps he would some night in the future when they’d both had a couple of beers too many. He also reasoned that the whole concept might be too new for Mark to be able to put into words yet.

            The haunting Hellboy was sent to investigate had been bothering Lord Yaxley’s family for a couple of generations now. The current Lord Yaxley was fairly positive that the unquiet spirit was that of George, a former Lord Yaxley from about four generations ago and a known boozer. There were also mentions of eccentrics in the family; Henry Wooster apparently had had an unusual interest in rabbits. “But it’s not as if he’s malevolent. I just wish him to be at peace. I also wish he’d stop putting the more colourful of my ties to the front of the wardrobe. I mean it’s alright day to day, but I had a funeral to go to the other day and do you think I could find something appropriate? I had to stop at my tailor’s to get one on the way there.”

            Kate, who’d come with him, dug into the family’s history, and came up with another name that might be the source of the disturbance. A local medium was brought in, a séance was held, which confirmed Kate’s theory that it was the man who’d held the title after George, his nephew Bertram. But when the medium encouraged him to leave, the message through the medium was clear, and was phrased remarkably like a telegram from the 1920’s.

            _“Am seeking out wayward friend. Also, not looking forward to seeing certain aged relatives in afterlife. I know Reginald has got to be around here somewhere. Now either help me find him or go boil your heads.”_  
            Seeing the unique nature of the situation, Hellboy placed the call to Jersey to see if Mark was fit to travel.

            Mark was cleared by the docs through the narrowest of margins. He had to promise to take it easy so he didn’t give his still fragile body and mind a stroke. He had listened to their medical opinions and concerns and smiled kindly. A haunting and helping release some wayward souls might be just he power up he needed. He brought Jacqueline for extra protection on the flight, and put most of his energy into his mental defenses and the mental defenses of the pilots in the cockpit.

            Mark whistled low when he entered the suite that Lord Yaxley was using at his country seat. He was walking on wrist crutches to help support his unused legs. “Nice digs, dontcha think, Jackie?” He asked.

            “If you say so. I much prefer home.” She replied and smiled at him. Hellboy, Kate, and the medium were already set up for an elaborate séance to once again call Bertram’s attention. Mark eyed the setup mildly, and promptly ignored it. He then reached into his pocket, and pulled out a white candle and a lighter. He lit the candle and placed it on the floor, gingerly working around the crutches.

            “Hi, Bertie.” Mark said in an amiable tone. “I hear you’re having a hard time finding a friend of yours.”

            The thin trail of smoke from the candle swirled, and then started to collect itself into a definite form. The transparent face and body of a young, slender man appeared. “You’ve hit the proverbial nail on the all too obvious head my tall chum.” He said with a cadence that made both Hellboy and Mark smirk. “I mean, I’ve been telling people for ages that I can’t find Reginald, and you seem to be the only one who appears to be able to do something about that.”

            “Yeah, I’ve got a knack for your particular type of problem. I know it’s been a long time and you might be confused. If you are, that’s alright. We’ll work it out. Do you remember dying, Bertie?” Mark asked. His voice was soft. Hellboy stood to one side and observed how casual Mark could be while talking to ghosts. But then again, most of the ones Hellboy had encountered prior weren’t nearly so pleasant. The nice ones seemed to be more Mark or Johann Krauss’ department.

            The spectre looked slightly indignant. “Yes, of course I remember. I know I’m dead... But I always thought Reg would have been here. To come recover the old master and ankle him on to glory, or wherever it is I should have gone after this. Reg would have known. That’s why I expected him you see... I simply have to find him. I’ve always been lost without him.” Bertram said. The expression he wore was tired and searching.

            “You tell me who Reg is or was and I’ll try to help you find him.” Mark said.

            “Thanks awfully... But how does one begin to describe a paragon like Reg?” Bertram mused. Kate mercifully, stepped up.

            “My information on Bertram says that he had a servant, Reginald Jeeves. By all accounts they were quite close, even after the sweeping social reforms after World War II.” She said while flipping through a file. “Here it is. Jeeves apparently died a number of years before the former Lord Yaxley here.”

            “And dashed inconsiderate of him to leave me holding the bag as it were. Getting old and taking the big sleep without one’s nearest and dearest is something approaching terrifying I must say. Far more so than the possible threat of dragon-slaying aunts on the other side of the mortal coil.”

            “So far as I know, Bertie,” Mark explained “You see who you want to see there. Those that made you happy. But my experience is somewhat limited.”

            “If that’s so, then where the bally hell is Reg?” Bertram asked. He had a harsh eye set on Mark.

            “Where was he buried? Do you remember?” Mark asked.

            “The family plot of course. As Seppings was at my Aunt Dahlia’s. He was their butler for years you know. Both Reg and Seppings where full of that old type of feudal spirit.” Bertram said. Mark once more gingerly bent down and picked up the candle. The vision of Bertram wavered only slightly.

            “Show me where it is, and I might be able to show you where Reg is still waiting for you.” Mark said.

            “Gosh, you really think so?” Bertram asked. His voice immediately gained a hopeful lilt. “I just expected him to be there right away after it happened.”

            “Some souls take longer to depart than others. Maybe he thought you would. I assume they put you in the same general area as him.”

            “I... I don’t know. I just got caught up in waiting here after they carted the aged corpus out... It...” Bertram trailed off and his gaze fell to the floor.

            “Also terrifying?” Mark asked quietly. From the expression on his face Hellboy could tell Mark still had a deep compassion for traumatized spirits. Bertram said nothing, but his face said all that Mark needed to know. “Jackie, darling, will you carry this?” Mark asked. She carefully accepted the candle into her grasp.

            The procession to the chapel and family plot was slow as Mark had to take it easy. Jacqueline even slowed him down a few times which he didn’t argue with. Bertie proved to be a chatty spirit, having been deprived of conversation for decades now. Hellboy couldn’t be bothered and tuned him out, but did note how easily Mark spoke with him about the weather, the estate, the ‘paragon’ that Reginald had been, and just how lonely he’d been since his ‘all too timely’ passing. “I was quite relieved to leave behind all that worldly responsibility though. I got out of so many rotten things. Never inherit a title, what.” Bertram told Mark and chuckled a bit.

            “I already sorta did, Bertie. Helping people in your situation is something like being bestowed a title more often than not. There’s work involved and you can’t really get out of it.” Mark said. He managed well enough with the crutches, but Hellboy could see that he was getting a bit winded. Luckily the small chapel and its attached graveyard were in view now.

            “I say old bean, this stretch isn’t too much for your legs now is it?” Bertie asked and Mark broke into a wide grin as he gimped along. This was something new to him. Most wayward souls were too self-absorbed in their own trauma to notice much about the living. It said much for Bertram’s character and made Mark happy to do his work for a grateful soul.

            “I’ll be fine, Bertie.” Mark said. “It’s merely a flesh wound.” Off to his right, Mark heard Hellboy chuckle quietly.

            The graveyard called to Mark. Lying on private land and consecrated ground, it had remained untouched by anybody like Mark. It rippled with energy older than Mark was used to in ‘New World’ cemeteries and was ripe for a ‘harvest’. And as soon as Mark stepped through the gate, he felt the ache that had settled in his bones ever since he woke in Jacqueline’s arms start to abate. He straightened up, set the crutches by the gate and motioned for the candle that Jacqueline held. “Everyone stay here. This is my show now.” He said. “Well, except for you, Red. I know you’re itching for it... And I need you to lean on in a literal sense.”

            “Oh, I’m all a twitter.” Hellboy said dryly.

            “Hey, I’m promising you a thrilling anti-climax here.” Mark said with a grin. Hellboy chuckled again. The rest of the group held back and Mark hobbled on, leaning his arm across Hellboy’s shoulder, and letting Bertie direct them to where Reg was buried. Hellboy kept the pace slow to accommodate Mark.

            When the spectre of Bertram came to a stop, it was at one the larger stones that read WOOSTER in block letters. Under the large title name were the names of both Bertram and one Reginald Jeeves and their respective dates. “I insisted that Reg was next to where I would be. I’m glad that they respected my wishes.” Bertie said with a detached, formal tone. “But while his name is here, I don’t see him.” He said much more softly.

            “Don’t count him out just yet, Bertie.” Mark replied and pulled another candle and his lighter from his pocket. He had Hellboy balance him while he knelt gingerly on the ground between the two names on the large family stone. Mark grimaced in pain, but did his best to ignore it. He lit the other candle and set both candles on the ground. He then made a fist and knocked firmly on the thick grass.

            “Reginald Jeeves, I know you’re around here somewhere. I’ve got an old friend of yours that needs a little guidance.” Mark said in hushed tones. The smoke from the newly lit candle did the same trick to Hellboy’s eyes and then there were two transparent apparitions before them. Bertram, however, was perceiving his friend in Technicolor.

            “I say, Reg! I wonder if I ever saw you looking so young. Probably not since the early days and I still called you Jeeves, and I was ‘sir’ this and ‘sir’ that to you.” Bertie said. Hellboy didn’t think that the ghost of Bertie Wooster could smile any wider without looking creepy. Reg was also smiling, but in a much more subdued manner.

            “It’s quite probable, Bertram. It’s good to see you finally... Where have you been?” Jeeves’ voice could only be described as ‘dulcet’ by Mark and Hellboy later over a couple of beers.

            “Oh you know me, completely lost without you, Reg... Have you been waiting here all this time?” Bertie asked.

            “Of course. There was no one else to wait for.” The two spirits smiled at each other in a way that would make Hellboy run screaming if this were a chick flick. But here it was almost appropriate. Exceptions could be made for long lost friends reunited. Both looked filled with relief and hope, and though Hellboy would never admit it aloud, it was nice.

            “Can we go now, Reg? I mean, is there something after this?” Bertie asked

            “To the best of my knowledge, yes there is, and it appears to be most satisfactory.” He replied with a droll little smile on his face.

            “Well then, lead on Old Thing.” Bertram said. Reginald laid a hand on Bertram’s shoulder. As they turned to leave though, Bertram paused and looked back to Mark. “Thank you... I... I don’t even know your name.”

            “Mark. My name’s Mark. Goodbye Bertie. Nice to have made your acquaintance.”

            “Likewise. Goodbye... And tell that nephew or whatever he is of mine that that purple tie really is spiffing and he ought to reconsider it.” Bertram said with a grin.

            Mark nodded, and though he wouldn’t swear to it later, he thought that Reginald gave the slightest roll of his eyes as he turned away. They took two steps together and then Mark extinguished the candles with a breath. The ghosts vanished as silently as they appeared and then Mark was sent to his elbows by a force unseen and almost unfelt by Hellboy. To Hellboy it was a small breeze, but when compared to Mark’s reaction it looked like it was a gale force wind that had floored him.

            Hellboy stepped forward and put his left hand on Mark’s shoulder. It was shaking. Hellboy was just about to worry about a seizure when Mark turned his head to face Hellboy. Mark was laughing silently. “Oh, does _that_ feel good.” He mumbled with half-closed eyes. “That’s definitely the stuff.” Hellboy scrutinized Mark’s face. If ‘blissed-out’ could be a proper diagnosis, Mark was it.

            “How stoned are you right now?” Hellboy asked.

            “Oh, I’ve been high, and it just doesn’t compare.” Mark rolled back onto his knees, stretched his shoulders and cracked his neck and then got up without assistance. He had a grin plastered on his face, and his eyes were still in the ‘bedroom’ category of openness. “Come on man, let’s go get a beer. I’ve never been overseas before. I may as well enjoy it.”

            “Yeah, okay. So that’s it then? No dark ritual? No angry spooks pissed off that you turfed ‘em?” Hellboy asked.

            “The peaceful dead are a subtle lot, Red.” Mark said quietly. He was still grinning. “How do you think I worked so long under the B.P.R.D.’s radar? It was Hecate who demanded a show and a fight. The dead usually just want the hell out of here.”

            “Fair enough.” Hellboy replied. “Now, about that beer.”

            They walked out of the cemetery and Mark took Jacqueline in his arms and kissed her gently, and then asked Lord Yaxley where they could get some form of refreshment. Yaxley, who was quite astonished at the physical transformation in Mark, offered up directions to the local pub. Which turned out to be within walking distance of the cemetery, and Mark insisted that they walk. Hellboy noticed that Mark strolled, almost dawdled along, taking notice of everything from flowers to somebody cruising by in a Bentley headed towards the Yaxley home. “That something you have to take care of?” Mark asked him.

            “It’s not everyday that I have such unique guests as you. The Archbishop can wait.” He replied and that made Mark’s grin get wider.

            “Cool, we trump clergy.” Mark said.

            “Seriously, how stoned are you right now?” Hellboy asked.

            “Enjoy my giddiness.” Mark replied. “Old world cemeteries with mostly happy residents apparently have a unique kick. Either that or this is how it's supposed to feel without Hecate butting in and wanting a piece.”

            The small pub filled rather quickly by the time everyone had filed in. The low ceilings and doors made Mark and Hellboy have to duck. “And this will be why I don’t do a lot of drinking in rural England.” Mark said and knocked on one of the crossbeams lightly. The group sat casually and started looking around at the old photos posted on the walls. It took a couple of pints before Hellboy noticed one in particular just as Yaxley was leaving to make his way back to the house. It was the shot of two young men from the early 1900’s, one wearing a tweed suit and the other a dark suit and a bowler. The photo next to it appeared to have been taken just outside the pub. The same two men firmly in middle age, and the formality of the first photo was completely absent in the second. Two friends grinned out from the aging photo, and Hellboy and Mark drank a toast to them and a job well done.

 

            The call about Glen came midway through the flight home. Mark didn’t freak out, or even get angry when the word came that his bike was missing from the Bureau’s parking garage, and that Glen had left a note addressed to him taped to one of the beers in the fridge.

 

_Mark,_

_Look I know you’d invite me back to New Orleans with you in your bizarre hope that we’d be able to get along like normal people. However, I consider myself a realist, and acknowledge that it may never happen. But in some odd inner working of my brain, I don’t want you to do the same. If we ever sort things out, you and your optimism will be responsible._

_As for me, I’ve got to be alone for awhile. I promise to keep in touch, and will come if it’s an emergency, but please respect my want to me alone. It’s how I deal with things. That touchy-feely talking about my emotions bullshit has never sat well with me. In a world where we’ve both lost so much, how I feel about things is pretty much the last thing I can truly own._

_And on the subject of owning things, I’m sorry about the bike, but I needed wheels. After what we’ve been through, I figure a stolen motorcycle ain’t no big thing._

_Take it easy. And watch out for Mic. Fucker’s still crazy._

_-Glen_

_PS: I now forgive you for breaking my Obi Wan action figure way back when._

 

            When Liz read the last line over the satellite phone, Mark burst out laughing. “That shit. That absolute shit.” Mark said, but he was still laughing as he did so.

            “You’re not going after him?” Hellboy asked.

            “No. Glen’s a big boy. He can look after himself. I’m going to frame that note though. Obi Wan was something of an issue between us.” Mark said and started chuckling all over again.

 

            Two days back Stateside, Mark said _no_. “No” He had said with the gentle, but firm tone a kindergarten teacher might use with an especially slow student.

            “Mr. Callaway, we just can let you walk free... You... You’re...”

            “Dangerous?” Mark asked. His health regained, he’d gotten a mind to really seize the freedom that was rightfully his. Mark was an intimidating figure, and Tom Manning disliked being strong-armed. He was heading up a group within the Bureau that wanted to keep Mark around for study purposes and field work. And Mark was saying no to all of it.

            “I may be dangerous, Mr. Manning. But I must remind you, I am a moral man. I know the consequences of my actions. I also know my responsibilities. While you may feel I’m obligated to stay here and be your lab rat, I do not. I have been held captive in varying ways for most of my life, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. I am committed to the betterment of humanity. I have seen how my power can be corrupted, and I have learned from it. I will not allow that to happen again.

            “My soul is my own again. Do you think I’d toss that away for material gain or at the expense of others? Even if you could hold me here, which you can’t, others will be looking for me. I’ve got, for the lack of a better word, duties which I’ve laid out for myself. I am going home, Mr. Manning... And I might just do a little bit of good for the world when I get there.” Mark said and turned away from Manning, his bag over his shoulder and Jacqueline at his side.

            Hellboy, who’d been casually observing from the doorway, gave Mark a nod. “Shoulda been a politician.” He said. They started walking down the hall towards the public entrance, followed by Abe, Liz and Kate.

            “Hey, I just said I am a _moral_ man.” Mark retorted and they grinned at one another. “I assume that you and everyone else will come to visit soon.”

            “Sure, but at this rate, father may beat you down to New Orleans. He’s still got all kinds of questions for you.”

            “Him I don’t mind. Tell him to call whenever. It’s Manning’s sort I don’t trust. He honestly thinks it’s in my best interest to stay... But he just isn’t aware of how in control of myself I am now, and what a laundry list of things I’ve got to do. I’m going to be busy for years now, tying up loose ends and cleaning up after Paul.”

            “Imagine that, a psychic seeing through Manning’s steel trap like reasoning.” Hellboy said.

            “The same ability that lets me know you’re genuine about coming to check out the digs in New Orleans.” Mark said. “Jackie’s family makes witch worked wine that’ll knock even you on your ass.”

            “Sounds good, but can you do it with beer?” Hellboy asked Jacqueline, who smiled.

            “I’ll see what we can come up with.” She said. Mark put his free arm around her gently. All the tension had gone out of his face and brow and he looked his age again, with the world ahead of him... and the balls to take it on.

            “Well, light of my life, shall we make a dramatic exit?” Mark asked her. He could see the light of the afternoon through the glass doors and the taxi waiting for them.

            “No drama. Takes too much effort. But a fond farewell might work.” She said.

            “Agreed.” Mark replied. A few handshakes and warm smiles later, and Mark held the door for Jacqueline and they were gone. Mark considered that he was leaving with. Once more he had less in the way of material things. That was fine with him though. Glen taking the bike had made him hate Mark a little less. It was a good investment for the future.

            The spiritual tally was much better overall. He was in charge of his life again, and he had people to share it with. And to go along with those two amazing things, he had a purpose to make it all mean something. It would keep him in line and keep him from becoming selfish like Paul. Things would be different, better, like Bradshaw had said.

            As they started for home, Mark had to wonder how long it would take for Hellboy to show up in New Orleans... And even though strange followed the guy around, he was looking forward to it.

  _-The End_

 

* * *

 

_Epilogue:_

            Liz sat in a coffee shop in Manhattan, flipping through a magazine and sipping at the largest sized coffee they offered. Mark had asked her to meet him here on the phone a few days ago, and to keep quiet about it. She'd taken the proper precautions, she wore a wire, had a communication device set directly to the Bureau, and her had her gun concealed under her jacket. But other than that, she'd respected Mark's wishes.

            When Mark breezed through the door alone, Liz glanced up but then pretended not to have noticed him and continued on with her magazine. Mark went to the counter, made a quiet, un-New York like order with the girl behind the counter and then looked around. He caught sight of Liz, collected his coffee, and then made his way over to her seat by a corner window.

            Mark was hoping the coffee would wake him up a bit. He knew he seemed entirely blissed out right now, but that seemed to be the nature of the type of power he was working with. He approached Liz's table and said, "Miss Sherman" in a way that belied his gruff appearance. He was in old blue jeans, an older t-shirt, and every inch the biker he sometimes was. What he sounded like was a genuine Southern Gentleman.

            "Hello, Mark." Liz said as she closed the magazine and looked up. Mark gave her an easy smile and sat down across from her. It didn't take long for Liz to notice his dilated pupils and continuing grin. "Are... Are you stoned?" She asked.

            "Sort of." Mark said. He was still grinning, to the point of chuckling. "But that's why I called you."

            "You lost your Zippo for the next joint you plan on rolling?" Liz joked. Mark did chuckle this time.

            "Nope, this is way cooler than rockin' the ganja... Wait, do I smell? I don't think I smell." Mark said and took a few exaggerated sniffs.

            "No, you don't smell like weed." Liz interrupted in the interest of getting to the point.

            "Ah, good."

            "And the reason why you took the trip up the Eastern Seaboard to meet me for coffee?" Liz asked.

            "Right, yes. You'll like this. I'm very proud." Mark said, going for the pocket of his jeans. He pitched himself against the wall behind him to do so. The sudden movement of the table and the shifting of Mark's bulk, reminded Liz briefly just how big he was and how violent he could get. She remained on her guard.

            "This is great, Liz. I made one for Glen, not that he really needs it, but he helped me a lot in the experimentation phase... And I can make them easily if the Bureau ever comes across any more pyrokinetics... Babbling... I'm actually babbling. Bradshaw was right about me when I'm like this, damn him." Mark said, his voice still sounded happily distracted, and he was still smiling. He set himself back down on the chair and presented Liz with a small object. "It was Farooq's idea to make it into a key chain for the convenience of the user." Mark explained, and set a small black stone with a hole drilled through it and a key ring attached on the table. Liz raised her eyebrows subtly.

            "Okay, it's for pyrokinetics and it's made to look like a key chain. What is it?" Liz asked.

            "A touchstone.. A stop gap. If you ever need to just quit, you can use this as an emergency out and it'll consume all the energy of your fire. It'll melt in the process, and it leaves an impossible stain on the floor, but it works. Essentially, Liz, it's complete control of your power. I've tried it with Glen and it's consumed entire infernos." Mark said.

            "Wait, Glen's back with you?"

            "On a limited basis. He's living in Florida and comes to visit about once a month. It's been... well, weird, but good, ya know?" He said. Liz was forgetting her initial concern. She was quite taken with his charm at the moment. His expression was playful and he was smiling at her right up to his eyes, and Liz found herself smiling back despite herself.

            "Why Florida?" Liz asked.

            "Oldest reason there is... He met a girly." Mark said the last sentence in a sing-song manner.

            "A girly?" Liz prodded in hopes of more information. Blissed out, chatty Mark did not disappoint.

            "Yup, goes by the name Meredith, and has a quirky power too. She has an alarmingly good control of water, like some cosmic polar opposite to Glen and yourself. She's been fostering Glen's more artistic abilities." Mark said.

            "The Bureau should check her out." Liz said.

            "She's not harmless, but she's not sadistic either, Liz. I've checked her out." Mark tapped his temple with his index finger. "She's horrifyingly _normal_. She grew up in a family where these things were accepting and dealt with like puberty...I know," He said, reading her expression of disbelief. "I had a hard time believing it too at first. It's kind of irritating that someone could pass for normal while the rest of us skulk about on the fringes of society... But while powerful, this family's magic and power is ultimately benevolent. They've even taught me a thing or two... I'm babbling again, aren't I?" Mark asked.

            "Maybe a bit. But I did ask." Liz said, and looked down at the stone. "Is thing going to turn me into a stoned hippy?" She asked, and finally laid her finger on the stone. To her surprise, she found it was black volcanic glass.

            "On a regular basis? No. I literally just made it in the hotel room. It helps when they're made and delivered to the user immediately it seems. And so far in testing, we haven't found a shelf life yet." Mark explained.

            "You've made lots of these?" Liz asked.

            "I made a bunch for Glen when we started. Some before he arrived, and some after. The ones I made after work the best. We've been testing them on a month by month basis, hence the visits."

            "How stoned were you after that?"

            "Only slightly more so than I am now." Mark said. "There's the same amount of serenity and bliss in each one, but it only passes through me, leaving only so much behind. I'll be fine after some Twinkies and a nap."

            "I have to tell HB about your junk food craving." Liz said and sipped her coffee. She then picked up the piece of volcanic glass and took her keys out of her pocket and attached it to them. "Thank you, Mark." She said softly.

            "Thank you, Liz. You laid all the ground work for me to get Glen back into my life. I owe you this and more." He said.

            "No you don't." Liz said firmly. "Friends don't keep tabs." They shared a wide smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that where this was originally posted that I included more. I have decided to cut it off and make it a separate short story out of that. But it will be coming soon. I promise.


End file.
